


2 . 

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THE LONE INN 


THE “ UNKNOWN” LIBRARY 


THE “ UNKNOWN ” LIBRARY. 


1. MLLE. IXE. By Lanoe Falconer. 

2. STORY OF ELEANOR LAM- 

BERT. By Magdalen Brooke. 

3. MYSTERY OF THE CAMPAGNA 

4. THE FRIEND OF DEATH. 

5. PHILIPPA. ByELLA. 

6. THE HOTEL D’ANGLETERRE. 

By Lanoe Falconer. 

7. AMARYLLIS. 

8. SOME EMOTIONS AND A 

MORAL. By John Oliver Hobbes. 

9. EUROPEAN RELATIONS. 

10. JOHN SHERMAN, and DHOYA. 

11. THROUGH THE RED-LITTEN 

WINDOWS. 

12. BACK FROM THE DEAD. Smith. 

13. IN TENT AND BUNGALOW. 

14. THE SINNER’S COMEDY. By 

John Oliver Hobbes. 

15. THE WEE WIDOW’S CRUISE. 

16. A NEW ENGLAND CACTUS. 

17. GREEN TEA. 

18. A SPLENDID COUSIN. 

19. GENTLEMAN UPCOTT’S 

DAUGHTER. By Tom Cobbleigh. 

20. AT THE T H R E S H O L D. By 

Laura Dearborn. 

21. HER HEART WAS TRUE. 

22. THE LAST KING OF YEWLE. 

23. A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 

By John Oliver Hobbes. 

24. THE PALIMPSEST. Thierry. 

25. SQUIRE HELLMAN. J. Aho. 

26. A FATHER OF SIX. 

27. THE TWO COUNTESSES. 

28. GOD’S WILD. By Ilse Frapan. 

29. HER PROVINCIAL COUSIN. 

30. MY TWO WIVES. By One of 

Their Husbands. 

31. YOUNG SAM AND SABINA. 

By Tom Cobbleigh. 

32. CHAPERONED. 

33 - WANTED, A COPYIST. By W. 
H. Brearley. 

34. A BUNDLE OF LIFE. By John 

Oliver Hobbes. 

35. THE LONE INN. Fergus Hume. 


THE “UNKNOWN” LIBRARY 


THE LONE INN 

A MYSTERY 


BY 


FERGUS HUME 

i) 

AUTHOR OF “THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB, 
“ THE FEVER OF LIFE,” 44 MADAME MIDAS,” “ THE 
•RED STAR,” 41 ALADDIN IN LONDON,” 44 THE 
QUEER STORY OF ADAM LIND,” 

ETC., ETC. 



NEW YORK 

THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO, 

31 East 17TH St. (Union Square) 



Fz-s 

,YV?U 

V-C 

z 


COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY 
FERGUS HUME. 


Copyright, 1895, by 

THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. 


) 


A ll rights reserved . 


THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
RAHWAY, N. J. 


0 


0 

L 



THE LONE INN. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ADVENTURE AT THE INN. 

F there be aught in pre- 
sentiments I was well 
warned by that first 
glimpse of the inn. The 
monstrous bulk of gables, 
sloping roofs, and lean 
chimneys, hunched blackly against 
the sky, would have scared a bolder 
spirit than mine. All day I had 
walked under blue sky, between 
green hedgerows, with light heart 
and whistling lip. Confronted in 
the twilight by so sinister a scene 
I felt qualmish. Ragged clouds 
dropped their fringes over sullen 
western red, around spread the salt 
marshes, evil in their desolation, 
and I with chilled blood stared at 
the lonely mansion dominating the 
outlook. Here, thought I, an ad- 





2 


THE LONE INN. 


venture awaits me. The hour, the 
house, the scene, hint at romance, 
and that of the strangest. 

So much were my spirits dashed 
by these ominous environments, that 
it was in my mind to walk the further 
ten miles and shelter for the night 
at Marshminster. Yet some fate 
compelled my unwilling feet toward 
that inhospitable door, and almost 
before I knew my own mind I was 
knocking loudly. It opened while 
my hand was still raised for the final 
rap, and a handsome woman pre- 
sented herself to my astonished 
eyes. What beauty did among the 
tombs I know not, yet there she 
smiled. Though handsome, she was 
not a lady, and lacked the undefin- 
able stamp of birth. At the samp 
time she was above the commonality. 
Not a lady, not a servant ; but some- 
thing between the two. Her appear- 
ance confirmed the promise of ro- 
mance. 

“I have walked from Eastbury,” 
said I, cap in hand, “ and wish to put 
up here for the night.’' 

“ Marshminster is only ten miles 
away,” answered she, in nowise dis- 
posed to admit me. 

“ And for that reason I want a bed 
here. Twenty or more miles walk- 
ing under a hot sun has wearied me 
considerably.” 


THE ADVENTURE AT THE INN. 


“ I am sorry we cannot accommo- 
date you, sir.” 

“ This is an inn,” I said, glancing 
at the srgn. 

“ The Fen Inn, sir,” she replied, 
still smiling, “ and full of guests for 
the time being.” 

“Full of guests, in this locality! 
You must then entertain waterfowl, 
for I have seen no human being for 
the last twelve miles.” 

She made no direct answer, but 
shook her head and prepared to 
close the door. Piqued by the dis- 
courtesy, and still more by the 
mystery of this reception, I was 
about to insist upon admission, when 
my attention was attracted to a face 
at the near window. I recognized 
it as that of a college friend, and 
waved my stick in greeting. 

“ Halloa, Briarfield ! ” 1 shouted 
lustily. “ Come and help me to a 
night’s lodgings.” 

The girl was surprised by my re- 
mark, and, as I thought, changed 
color. She stepped aside to let 
Briarfield pass, and exhibited further 
astonishment at the urbanity of our 
greeting. 

“What wind blows you here, Den- 
ham ? ” asked Briarfield, shaking my 
hand. 

“ I am on a walking tour,” I 
answered, “ and hoped to have 


4 


THE LONE INN. 


reached Marshminster to-night. But 
as it is ten miles away and I feel 
weary I wish to sleep here. This 
young lady, however, says the inn is 
full of guests and ” 

“Full of guests!” interrupted 
Briarfield, looking at the girl. “ Non- 
sense, Rose, I am the only guest 
here ! ” 

“We expect others, sir,” said 
Rose obstinately. 

“You can’t expect a sufficient 
number to fill the house,” he retorted ; 
“ surely Mr. Denham can have a 
bed ?” 

“ I shall ask my father, sir ! ” 

When she disappeared Briarfield 
turned to me with a smile, and asked 
a strange question. 

“ Now, I’ll be bound,” said he, 
“ that you don’t know my first 
name ? ” 

“ Felix.” 

“ No ! You are wrong, I am 
not the rich Felix, but the poor 
Francis.” 

“ You see the result of being one 
of twins,” said I impatiently ; “ if at 
college I could not distinguish be- 
tween you how can you expect me to 
do so now ? I haven’t seen either 
you or your brother for at least two 
years. Where is Felix ?” 

“ At Marshminster.” 

“ And what are you doing here ?” 


THE ADVENTURE AT THE INN. 5 


“ Ah, that’s a long story. If 
you ” 

“ Please to walk in, sir,” inter- 
rupted Rose at this moment, “ my 
father desires to speak with you.” 

“ I have then to submit myself to 
the approval of the landlord,” said I, 
and forthwith entered the house, fol- 
lowed by Francis Briarfield. 

The landlord, a lean, saturnine 
man, above the common height, 
saluted me with a sour smile. In 
appearance and demeanor he was 
quite in keeping with that dreary 
inn. About him lurked a Puritanic 
flavor, not ill suited to his somber 
attire and unctuous speech. He was 
less like an innkeeper than a smug 
valet. I mistrusted the man at first 
sight. 

“ I can give you supper and a bed, 
sir,” said he, bending his body and 
rubbing his hands, “ neither, I regret 
to say, of the first quality.” 

“ Never mind,” I answered, un- 
strapping my knapsack. “ I am too 
tired and hungry to be particular.” 

“ We have only lately taken up 
this house, sir,” he continued, still 
bowing, “ and things are a trifle dis- 
ordered.” 

I glanced round. Despite the 
cheerful blaze of a fire, the room had 
a mildewed look, as though long un- 
inhabited. Traces of hasty cleans- 


6 


THE LONE INN. 


ing were visible in all corners, and 
in the dim light filtered through 
dusty panes, the apartment had a 
singularly uninviting aspect. Again 
that premonition of misfortune came 
over me. 

“ I wonder you took up the house 
at all,” said I. “ You won’t make 
your fortune in this locality.” 

The landlord made no reply, but 
muttering something about supper 
left the room. His daughter had 
already departed, presumably in the 
direction of the kitchen, and I found 
myself alone with Francis Briarfield. 
He was absently looking out at the 
window, and started when I ad- 
dressed him directly. I augured 
mystery therefrom. 

“ What’s the meaning of fhese 
mysteries ? ” I asked abruptly. The 
horror of the place was already in- 
fluencing my spirits. 

“ What mysteries ? ” demanded 
Briarfield, in a listless manner. 

“ This inn has been uninhabited 
for some considerable period. A 
suspicious looking rascal and his 
pretty daughter have taken up their 
abode here with no possible chance 
of getting customers. I stumble on 
this Castle Grim in the twilight and 
find you here — you of all men, whom 
I believed to be in South America. 
Don’t you call these mysteries ? ” 


THE ADVENTURE At THE INN. 7 


“ If you put it that way I admit 
the mysteries,” replied Francis, 
coming toward the fire. “ I know 
little about the inn — still less about 
the landlord and his daughter. As 
to myself — I am here by appoint- 
ment to meet my brother Felix. 
Came from London to Starby, and 
rode from thence to this inn.” 

“Why meet him in this murderous 
looking house ? ” 

“ He named the place of meeting 
himself.” 

“ And you?” 

“ I only arrived this month in 
England from South America. I 
wrote him from London asking to 
see him. He appointed this inn as 
neutral ground for us to meet, so 
here I am.” 

“ Why neutral ground ? Have you 
quarreled ! ” 

“ Bitterly.” 

“ You did so at college,” said I 
looking steadily at him. “ Strange 
that such ill blood should exist 
between twin brothers.” 

“ The inevitable woman,” said 
Francis, in a harsh tone, quite at 
variance with his usual soft speech. 

“ Oh ! And her name ?” 

“ Olivia Beilin ! ” 

“I know her. Do you mean to 
say, Briarfield, that ” 

“Hush ! ” he said, rapidly indica- 


8 


TtfE LONE INN. 


ting the door, and there stood the 
girl Rose listening to our conversa- 
tion. Her face was pale and it was 
evident that the mention of the name 
had powerfully affected her. Seeing 
our eyes were on her, she apologized 
in a low, nervous voice. 

“Your pardon, gentlemen,” she 
said, placing a tray on the table. 
“ I did not intend to interrupt your 
conversation. Allow me to lay the 
table for supper ! ” 

“ First show me my room,” said I, 
picking up my knapsack. “ I am 
dusty, and wish to give myself a 
brush up.” 

Rose nodded, and preceded me 
out of the apartment. I glanced 
back, and saw that Francis had re- 
turned to his old post by the window. 
Evidently he was watching for the 
arrival pf his brother. 

“When does Mr. Felix Briarfield 
arrive ? ” I asked Rose, as we as- 
cended the stairs. 

“ I don’t know the name, sir,” she 
said with an obvious effort. 

“ You don’t know the name,” I re- 
peated, seeing she was lying, “ yet 
Mr. Francis Briarfield is here to meet 
his brother.” 

“ It may be so, sir ! But I know 
nothing about it. Mr. Briarfield is a 
stranger to me, like yourself.” 

“It is to be hoped you received 


THE ADVENTURE AT THE INN. 9 


him more willingly than you did 
me.” 

My words fell on the empty air, 
for after her last remark she hastily 
departed. I mechanically attended 
to my wants, and wondered what 
could be the meaning of the girl’s 
attitude. 

“ She knows Miss Beilin and Felix 
Briarfield,” I thought, “ perhaps not 
personally, but at least their names. 
She is also aware of the intended 
visit of Felix to this place. I must 
find out from Francis the reason of 
that visit, and it may throw some 
light on the demeanor of Rose. I 
am glad I came here to-night, for 
that landlord is scarcely a person to 
be trusted. Certainly my presenti- 
ment of romance is coming true.” 

When I descended to the dining 
room I found supper laid, and Fran- 
cis impatiently awaiting my arrival. 
A lamp was lighted, and for the first 
time I saw his face plainly. The al- 
teration in his looks and demeanor 
since our college days was astonish- 
ing. Felix had always been the 
graver of the twins, and it was the 
distinguishing mark between them. 
Now the livelier spirits of Francis 
had calmed down to a subdued 
gravity which made the resemblance 
between them still greater. We 
seated ourselves at the table in si- 


IO 


THE LONE INN. 


lence, and he colored as he caught 
my earnest look. 

“ You find me altered ? ” he asked, 
with manifest discomposure. 

“Very much altered, and more 
like Felix than ever P* 

“ I haven’t seen him for over a 
year,” said Briarfield abruptly, “ so 
I don’t know if the resemblance is 
still strong.” 

“ It is stronger,” I answered em- 
phatically. “ I saw Felix two months 
ago, and now I look at you to-night 
I can scarcely believe it is Francis, 
and not Felix seated before me.” 

“We are alike to outward view, 
Denham, but I hope our natures are 
different.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Felix,” said he, with marked de- 
liberation, “ is a thief, a liar, and a 
dishonorable man ! ” 

“ You speak strongly ! ” 

“ I have reason to.” 

“ The before-mentioned reason, 
Briarfield,” said I, alluding to the 
feminine element. 

“ Yes ! By the way,” he added 
feverishly, “you said Miss Beilin was 
known to you.” 

“ In a casual way only. She is 
a society beauty, and I have met her 
once or twice ; also her very silly 
mother. The latter is as remarkable 
for folly as the former is for beauty. 


THE ADVENTURE AT THE INN. II 


Well, Briarfield, and what about Miss 
Beilin ?” 

“ I was engaged to her.” 

“ You are engaged to her ? ” 

“ I said ‘ was,’ ” he replied, with 
emphasis ; “ now she is engaged to 
my brother.” 

“ Of her own free will ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Briarfield, 
“ I really don’t know. When 1 went 
to Chili I was her affianced lover. 
Now I return and learn that she is to 
marry my brother.” 

“ What explanation does he make ?” 

“ None as yet. To-night or to- 
morrow morning he comes here to 
explain.” 

“ But why here, of all places ? ” 

“Miss Bellinis in Marshminster. 
Felix is staying there also, and in his 
letter asked me to see him at the 
Fen Inn, as he wished to explain 
his conduct fully before I met Olivia 
again.” 

“ And you agreed ? ” 

“ As you see.” 

“ In your place,” said I medita- 
tively, “ I should have gone at once 
to Marshminster and confronted 
both. There is some trickery about 
this.” 

“ You think so ? ” 

“ I am by nature suspicious,” I 
answered, “ perhaps too much so. 
Yes ! I think there is some trickery.” 


12 


THE LONE INN. 


Francis frowned and glanced at his 
watch. 

“ It is now eight o’clock,’' he said, 
replacing it in his pocket, “ too late 
to go to Marshminster.’ 

‘‘Besides which,” I added, “our 
worthy landlord has doubtless 
neither trap nor horse.” 

By this time we had finished 
supper and Rose came in to clear 
away. Thoughtfully filling my pipe 
I watched her closely. Undeniably 
she was a very beautiful woman, and 
ill suited to her present occupation. 
Why a girl so handsome should bury 
herself in this lonely inn was a 
mystery to me. I felt sure that 
there was a purpose connected with 
her presence here, and that inimical 
to Briarfield. The landlord did not 
make his appearance, which was to 
me a matter of some relief. I dis- 
liked the fellow greatly. 

Francis, smoking hard, sat staring 
at the fire, and took no heed of 
Rose. Once or twice she glanced in 
his direction, and looked as though 
about to address him. Catching my 
eye, she bit her lip and desisted. 
Finally she disappeared from the 
room with manifest anger at not 
having accomplished her design. 

“ Strange,” said I, lighting my pipe. 

“ What is strange ? ” asked Briar- 
field, looking up. 


THE ADVENTURE AT THE INN. 13 


“ That girl knows your brother.” 

“ It’s not impossible,” he answered 
carelessly; “ Felix always had an eye 
for pretty faces, and as he appointed 
this inn as a meeting place, he has 
probably been here before. Rose 
Strent no doubt draws him hither by 
her beauty.” 

“ That is not a compliment to 
Miss Beilin.” 

“ I know it. Felix is a profligate 
scamp, and will make her a bad 
husband. He shall not marry her ! ” 
added Briarfield angrily. “ I say he 
shall not marry her and make her 
life miserable ! I’ll kill him first ! ” 

“ Man ! man ! think of what you 
are saying — your own brother.” 

“ My own brother — my twin 
brother,” scoffed Francis ; “ is that 
any reason why he should take away 
from me the woman I loye ? ” 

“ She is not worth regretting if 
she forgets you so soon.” 

“ She has not forgotten me,” he 
said earnestly ; “ I assure you, Den- 
ham, she loves me still. The last 
letter I received from her gave no 
hint that she wearied of me. As 
you say, there is some trickery about 
it. I’ll have an explanation from 
Felix,” continued he, striking the 
table with his fist, “ or, by Heaven, 
I’ll kill him ! ” 

“ Where did you meet her ? ” I 


14 


THE LONE INN. 


asked, ignoring his last remark, 
which was but idle. 

“ In town, over a year ago,” he 
replied, calming down. “ She is, as 
you know, very beautiful, and her 
mother wished her to make a great 
match. I am comfortably off, but 
have not a title, therefore Mrs. Bei- 
lin would not sanction the engage- 
ment. Then I had to go out to 
South America on business con- 
nected with my property. Before I 
left she promised to become my wife, 
and swore that nothing should part 
us or render her false to me. See, 
here is the ring she gave me,” he 
added, stretching out his hand, “ this 
pearl ring. I was t9 be back in six 
months, and our engagement was to 
be made public. I am back in six 
months, and the first news I hear is 
that she is U> marry Felix.” 

“ Did she write and tell you so ? ” 

“ No, but Felix did, and asked me 
to meet him here before seeing her.” 

“ Now, I wonder if this apparent 
treachery of Miss Beilin has any- 
thing to do with your twinship.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked 
Briarfield, starting up. 

“ You are so like in appearance,” 
said I, “ that no one could tell you 
apart. You have lived constantly 
together save for the last six months, 
and know every action of each 


THE ADVENTURE AT THE INN. 15 


other’s lives. It may be that Felix 
has passed himself off to Miss Beilin 
as you.” 

“ Impossible ! She would detect 
the deception.” 

“ I doubt it, save by intuition. I 
assure you, Briarfield, that the re- 
semblance between you is most per- 
plexing. There is not the slightest 
difference. You dress the same, you 
have the same features, you almost 
think the same. It is scarce pos- 
sible to tell which is which when 
apart. I thought to-night that you 
were Felix.” 

“ It cannot be, it cannot be,” he 
muttered feverishly ; “ her own heart 
would tell her the truth.” 

“Did you tell Felix of your en- 
gagement?” I asked abruptly. 

“ Yes ; I told him all.” 

“ And when did you hear last 
from Miss Beilin ? ” 

“ Some three months ago. It 
was because she did not reply to my 
letters 'that I came back so soon.” 

“ To whom were your letters 
sent ?” 

“ To her, of course ! ” 

“Care of Felix?” said I, with 
instinctive suspicion. 

“ Why, yes,” he said, with a sud- 
den frown. “ I did not want Mrs. 
Beilin to know of our engagement, 
so did not dare to write openly. 


1 6 


THE LONE INN. 


Felix undertook to deliver the let- 
ters.” 

“ He may have undertaken to do so, 
but,” I added forcibly, “ he did not.” 

“ Denham ! ” 

“ The whole case is as cle'ar as 
day,” said I. “Felix was in love 
with Miss Beilin, and wished to 
marry her. Knowing she was in 
love with you, he was well aware he 
had no chance, so resorted to 
trickery. When you left for Chili, 
he gave her your letters for three 
months, then saying he was going 
abroad, ostensibly left England, but 
really stayed, and presented himself 
as — you.” 

“ As me ! ” 

“Yes. He has traded on the 
marvelous resemblance between 
you. He knows all your life, all 
your love affairs, and I have no 
doubt that Miss Beilin believes that 
he is Francis Briarfield, her lover, 
returned from South America in 
three months instead of six.” • 

“If I thought so,” muttered 
Francis, biting his fingers, “ if I 
thought so ” 

“ I am sure it is so. Now you see 
why it is imperative that he should 
interview you before you meet Miss 
Beilin. He wishes to reveal the de- 
ception and throw himself on your 
mercy.” 


THE ADVENTURE AT THE INN. 17 


“ He’ll get no mercy from me if 
this is so,” said Briarfield, in a 
somber tone. “ Oh, fool that I was 
not to write direct to Olivia when I 
came back to England ! But it is 
not too late. When he comes here 
I’ll learn the truth, and denounce 
him to Olivia. Then our troubles 
will be over.” 

“ A man capable of such a trick is 
capable of worse,” said I senten- 
tiously. “ I advise you to be on your 
guard against Felix.” 

“ Do you think he’ll kill me ?” 

“ I don’t go as far as that,” I re- 
plied cautiously ; “ but your meeting 
will be — productive of trouble. Just 
now you expressed a wish to kill 
him.” 

“And I shall, if he has tricked me 
as you say.” 

“ Nonsense, Briarfield ; you talk 
wildly. This matter can surely be 
settled in a less melodramatic fashion. 
I am glad I am here, as perhaps you 
will permit me to be present at the 
interview.” 

“ Willingly. I know how clever 
you are, Denham. You may assist 
me to unmask Felix.” 

“ Do you think he’ll come to- 
night ?” said I, going to the window. 

“ His letter said to-night or to- 
morrow ! ” 

“ Then it will be to-morrow ! Felix 


i8 


THE LONE INN. 


wouldn’t risk meeting you at night if 
he has thus betrayed you. Let us 
go to bed and to-morrow settle the 
matter.” 

At first Francis was unwilling to 
retire, but when the landlord came 
to lock up for the night, and laughed 
at the idea of anyone coming there 
from Marshminster, he fell in with 
my desire. Together we went up- 
stairs and parted on the threshold of 
his room. It was five or six doors 
away from mine. 

“ Lock your door,” said I as we 
parted. 

“ What ! do you think I’ll be mur- 
dered in my sleep ?” 

“ No ! but I don’t like the inn, and 
I dislike the face of Strent, the land- 
lord. Besides,” I continued, tapping 
Briarfield’s breast, “that girl Rose ! ” 

“ What about her ? ” 

“ She knows Miss Beilin. Good- 
night ! ” 

With that I departed, notwithstand- 
ing his desire for an explanation of 
my last words. So wearied was I 
that despite my suspicions of the inn 
I speedily fell asleep. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE SEQUEL TO THE ADVENTURE 
AT THE INN. 

T was close on ten o’clock 
when I awoke next morn- 
ing. My long tramp of 
the previous day had tired 
me more than I thought. 
Nevertheless, I was an- 
noyed at oversleeping myself, and 
astonished that Francis had not 
called me earlier. I knew how anx- 
ious he was about the proposed 
meeting with his brother, and fancied 
that his impatience would have 
drawn him to my room at dawn. 
Apparently he was less curious con- 
cerning the interview than I thought. 
Yet, leaving him out of the question, 
I ought certainly to have been roused 
by Strent or his daughter, and deter- 
mined to reprove them for such neg- 
lect. After all, an inn is an inn, and 
one has a right to attentions for 
which one pays. Judging from the 



20 


THE LONE INN. 


landlord’s looks, I did not think my 
bill would err on the side of cheap- 
ness. 

These thoughts passed through 
my mind as I hastily dressed myself. 
Opening the window, I looked out 
on the marshes, golden in the sun- 
shine. A keen wind was blowing 
from the sea, and the smell of brine 
struck into the heavy atmosphere of 
my bedroom. An absolute stillness 
prevailed both inside and out. I 
felt as though I had awakened in the 
spellbound palace of the sleeping 
beauty. An inn, of all places, should 
be full of bustle and noise, but there 
was something uncanny in the silence 
which reigned in this marsh-locked 
hostel. It hinted trouble, and I felt 
uneasy. 

In no very good temper I de- 
scended to the dining room, with the 
intention of apologizing to Francis 
for my tardy appearance and of rat- 
ing the landlord for his negligence. 
To my astonishment, neither Francis 
nor anyone else was seen, and the 
room was in precisely the same con- 
dition as on the previous night. The 
fire was unlighted, the table not set 
out for breakfast, even the window 
blinds were down. For the moment 
I was sick with apprehension, as it 
was impossible to conjecture the 
reason of this neglect and absence of 


SEQUEL TO THE ADVENTURE. 21 


human life. The stillness was as 
absolute as had prevailed upstairs, 
and when I rang the bell it echoed 
throughout the house as though 
mocking my efforts to summon land- 
lord, maid, or friend. 

Twice, thrice, I pulled the bell- 
rope without result ; then, somewhat 
unnerved by the silence in which I 
found myself, went to the back part 
of the premises. Here the condition 
of things was the same as in the 
dining room. The kitchen was 
empty, nor were there any signs of 
fire or of food. I explored the whole 
,of the ground floor and found no- 
body. The conclusion forced itself 
upon me that Strent and his daughter 
had left the inn during the night. 

What was the meaning of this sud- 
den flight ? What reason could be 
sufficiently powerful to force them to 
vacate the premises ? Asking myself 
these questions I entered room after 
room, but in none of them did I find 
any answer. The front door was 
bolted and barred, the back entrance 
was in the same condition, and there 
was no key in either lock. I con- 
sidered the features of the case, and 
saw that the air was full of mystery, 
perhaps of — but no, in that lonely 
house I could not bring myself to 
utter that terrible word. 

I knew not what had happened 


22 


THE LONE INN. . 


during my sleep, but felt certain that 
some event had taken place. Other- 
wise there could be no reason for 
this state of things. Almost against 
my will I searched the house again, 
but could discover neither Strent 
nor his daughter Rose. I was alone 
in the house ! But Francis 

“Francis!” said I, repeating my 
thoughts aloud, “aye, Francis. I 
wonder if he has left the inn also, or 
whether he has overslept himself, 
and is still in his room.” 

To make sure, I went upstairs to 
his bedroom. Pray observe that all 
this time I had not connected these 
things with crime. It is true I had 
a faint suspicion that there might 
possibly be some foul play, but as 
there was nothing to confirm such a 
belief I abandoned the idea. I de- 
clare that when I knocked at the 
door of Briarfield’s room I had no 
more idea of the horrid truth than 
a babe unborn. My premonitions 
pointed to mystery, but not to mur- 
der. Yet from the conversation 
of the previous night I might have 
guessed what had happened. The 
house was as accursed as the palace 
of the Artidae and Ate bided on the 
threshold stone. 

Not until 1 had thrice knocked 
without receiving any answer did 
my suspicions begin to form. Then 


SEQUEL TO THE ADVENTURE. 23 


they took shape in an instant. I 
tried the door. . It was locked. The 
ominous silence still hinted at un- 
speakable horrors. My knocking 
echoed jarringly through the still- 
ness. At that moment there flashed 
before my eyes the picture of two 
figures flying across a red horizon 
against which blackened the beams 
of a gallows. It was the shadow of 
the future. I knocked, I called his 
name, and finally in desperation at 
the continued silence set my shoulder 
against the crazy door. It yielded 
with a tearing sound, and I entered 
the room amid a cloud of fine dust. 

' He was lying on the bed stiff and 
cold. I had no need to call, to touch 
xhis shoulder, to place my hand on 
his heart. He was dead ! With the 
clothes drawn up smoothly to his 
chin lay the man with whom I had 
conversed the previous night. The 
right arm lay outside the counter- 
pane. On the hand glistened a pearl 
ring. I looked at that bauble, I 
glanced at the waxen face. The mat- 
ter was beyond all doubt. Francis 
Briarfield was dead. 

Before I could further examine the 
body or the room I was forced to 
run for my brandy flask. For the 
moment I was deadly sick, and it 
needed a long draft of the fiery 
spirit to speed the stagnating blood 


24 


THE LONE INN. 


through my veins. The strange cir- 
cumstance was a sufficient apology 
for such qualmishness. This lonely 
inn set on a hand breadth of living 
ground amid quaking bogs, this dead 
body of what had once been a friend, 
this solitude by which I found myself 
environed, these were sufficient to 
shake the strongest nerve. It looks 
in a manner prosaic on black and 
white, but think of the horror of the 
actual experience ! 

For the moment I could formu- 
late no ideas on the subject. That 
my friend should be dead was 
sufficient to stun me. When reason 
came back I asked myself how he 
died and who was responsible for the 
crime. The landlord, the maid, the 
brother — one of these three had 
murdered Francis Briarfield. But 
in what way ? 

I examined the body. It was 
clothed in a nightgown and the 
clothes lay folded up on the chair by 
the bedside. The face was calm, 
there were no marks of violence on 
the throat or on the frame. Only 
on the violet lips lingered a slight 
curl of foam. The smooth bed- 
clothes drawn up to the chin forbade 
the idea of a struggle. I looked at 
the right arm lying on the counter- 
pane, at the hand, and there in the 
palm was a ragged wound from 


SEQUEL TO THE ADVENTURE. 25 


thumb to little finger. It was dis- 
colored at the edges, and looked 
green and unwholesome. This livid 
appearance made me think of 
poison, but I was not sufficiently a 
doctor to diagnose the case correctly. 
Yet I was certain of one thing. 
That Francis Briarfield had come by 
his death in some foul fashion, and 
that at the hands of — whom ? 

Aye ! there was the rub. So far 
as I knew the landlord had no 
motive to commit such a crime. 
Suspicions pointed toward the maid 
who had wished to speak with the 
dead man after supper. Yet why 
'should she desire his death ? From 
the lips of Francis himself I had 
heard that he knew neither Strent nor 
Rose, nor indeed aught of the Fen 
Inn. Hither he had been brought 
by his brother’s letter to keep an 
appointment, and was as ignorant 
of the inn, of its inmates, of its sur- 
roundings as I. 

Could Felix have committed the 
crime ? True, if my theory were cor- 
rect, and he had passed himself off 
to Olivia Beilin as Francis, there were 
some grounds for believing he 
wished his brother out of the way. 
Francis would undoubtedly refuse to 
permit the deception to be carried 
on, so it was just possible that Felix, 
in a frenzy of wrath and terror at 


26 


THE LONE INN. 


the idea of his treachery being ex- 
posed, might have slain his brother. 
Yet all this fine theory was upset by 
the fact that Felix had not arrived 
on the previous night to keep the 
appointment. He therefore must be 
guiltless. 

If so, what of the landlord and his 
daughter ? Certainly they had no 
reason to slay a stranger who had 
sheltered under their roof for the 
night. Yet their flight looked sus- 
picious. If they were innocent why 
did they leave the inn ? 

Another question pregnant with 
meaning was the reason of their be- 
ing alone in the inn. I had seen 
no servants either indoors or out. 
Father and daughter appeared to do 
all the work, yet it was beyond all 
reason that they should have no 
assistance. Where was the cook, 
the waiter, the hostler, the chamber- 
maid ? The house was a large one. 
Two people with all the will in the 
world could not thoroughly attend 
to the domestic economy of so great 
a mansion. Moreover, the girl had 
looked unused to work. That in 
itself was suspicious. 

“ Can it be ? ” I thought. “ Can it 
be that these two hired this inn to 
compass the death of Francis Briar- 
field, and that he was drawn here as 
into a snare by his brother’s letter ? 


SEQUEL TO THE ADVENTURE. 27 


On the face of it, it looks absurd, and 
yet in what other way can I explain 
the absence of servants, the mil- 
dewed aspect of the rooms ? Now 
Francis is dead, and they without a 
word to me have departed.” 

I could not solve the mystery. 
Far from doing so, the more 1 
thought, the more I examined the 
surroundings, the deeper grew the 
mystery. The door had been locked 
and I could find no key. The win- 
dow also was locked, and even had 
it not been, no one could have en- 
tered thereby, so considerable was 
the height from the ground. How, 
then, had the assassin gained admit- 
tance ? Yet sure was I that Briar- 
field had been murdered, but by 
whom it was hard to say — nay, im- 
possible. 

I did indeed think that he had 
committed suicide, but this was too 
wild an idea to entertain even for a 
moment. When I parted from him 
on the previous night he was in the 
best of health, looking forward to 
meeting Miss Beilin, and was pass- 
ably content with his life. There 
was no hint of self-destruction either 
in speech or action. The thought 
that his brother had deceived him 
would not have engendered such an 
idea. Rather was he determined to 
unmask the traitor, and regain his 


28 


THE LONE INN. 


promised wife by force. Murder it 
might be, suicide was out of the 
question. 

Thus far I threshed out the matter, 
yet arrived at no logical conclusion. 
As there seemed no signs of landlord 
and maid, it behooved me to consider 
what I should do. According to 
Francis, his brother was due at the 
meeting place that morning, so I 
deemed it advisable to wait until he 
arrived, and then explain the circum- 
stances to him. If he was in league 
with Strent to murder his brother he 
would hardly be able to disguise his 
joy at hearing the success of his plot. 
I therefore determined to watch his 
face during the interview, and if I 
saw therein any signs of guilt, to 
there and then in that lonely inn 
accuse him as a second Cain. By 
thus terrorizing his soul with such 
accusation and with the sight of his 
victim I might force him into con- 
fession. 

If he were guilty, I guessed the 
plea behind which he would shelter 
himself : That he had not been near 
the place on the previous night. 
This I would counter by the accusa- 
tion that his emissaries had carried 
out his orders and then sought safety 
in flight. It might be that I sus- 
pected Felix wrongly, yet, after the 
story told me by Francis, I could not 


SEQUEL TO THE ADVENTURE. 29 


but think he was connected in some 
unseen way with the death of the 
latter. But, after all, these sus- 
picions were yet vague and aim- 
less. All I knew for certain was 
that Francis Briarfield was dead. I 
swore on the instant to devote myself 
to finding out and punishing his de- 
testable assassin. 

Having come to this resolution, I 
propped up the open door, so as to 
close the entrance to the chamber of 
death, and descended to the lower 
regions. Finding victuals and fuel 
in the kitchen, I cooked myself a 
meal, and made a sufficiently good 
breakfast. Then I lighted my pipe 
and took my seat at the front door, 
to watch for the coming of Felix 
Briarfield. Whether my suspicions 
would be dispelled or confirmed by 
his demeanor I was, of course, unable 
to say until the interview took place. 
But I was most anxious to know. 

All that morning I looked down 
the winding road to Marshminster, 
but saw no one coming therefrom. 
Not a soul was in sight, and if I did 
for a moment think that Strent and 
his daughter might return and declare 
themselves innocent, the thought was 
banished by a few hours’ outlook. 
The inn, as I said before, was on a 
slight rise, and I could see far and 
wide. No human being was to be 


30 


THE LONE INN. 


seen, and as the hours passed I grew 
almost horrified at the grewsome soli- 
tude. To be alone with a dead body 
in a lonely house in a lonely moor is 
hardly healthy for the mind. 

Toward noon I took a resolution. 

“ If,” said I, “ the mountain won’t 
come to Mahomet — why, then, Ma- 
homet must go to the mountain.” 

The interpretation of this was that 
I intended to see Felix Briarfield at 
Beilin Hall, Marshminster. Face to 
face with him, I would force him 
to explain why he had not kept the 
appointment. It seemed to me a 
suspicious circumstance. Perhaps 
Strent had told him Francis was 
dead, and therefore it would be use- 
less for him to ride to the Fen Inn. 
If this were so, it would go a long way 
toward implicating him in the crime. 

I re-entered the house, locked up 
everything, and, strapping on my 
knapsack, took my departure toward 
Marshminster. Some way down the 
road I looked back at the ruin, and 
saw it loom more grim and ghastly 
than ever. Even in the bright sun- 
shine it could not appear otherwise 
than eerie, and it was with great pleas- 
ure that I left it behind. Yet under 
those sloping roofs Francis Briarfield 
lay dead, and it was to discover his 
assassin and to avenge his death that 
I set my face toward Marshminster. 



CHAPTER III. 

FELIX OR FRANCIS ? 

VTE in the afternoon I 
tramped into Marshmin- 
ster. It was by no means 
my first visit to that sleepy 
provincial town. Under 
the shadow of the cathe- 
dral tower dwelt relatives 
with whom I had aforetime spent 
school and college holidays. Their 
house was the goal of my pilgrimage, 
and a week’s rest was to recoup me 
for the toils of the walking tour. The 
tragic occurrence at the Fen Inn 
altered all my plans. With an assas- 
sin to be tracked, there was no time 
for comfortable idleness. Francis 
Briarfield had been my friend, and I 
owed it to his memory to avenge his 
death. It was no easy task I had 
set myself ; I recognized that from 
the first. 

In place, therefore, of seeking the 
center of the town and my maiden 



3 2 


THE LONE INN. 


aunt’s, I turned off at the outskirts 
and made for Beilin Hall. Accord- 
ing to the story of Francis, his 
brother was staying with the Beilins, 
and it was necessary that I should 
see him at once about the matter. 
My acquaintance with Mrs. Beilin 
and her daughter was confined to 
casuaJ conversation at crowded “ at 
homes” during the season. I had 
hardly the right to thrust myself on 
them uninvited, but my business 
brooked of no delay. The sooner 
Felix knew the truth the better it 
would be for him. If he were guilty, 
I could punish him for his crime by 
denouncing him at once to the 
authorities ; if innocent, he need lose 
no time in hunting down those who 
had slain his brother. Besides, I 
wished to put Olivia on her guard 
against the man masquerading as 
Francis Briarfield. That I intended 
to do in any case, whether he was 
innocent or guilty. 

Beilin Hall was a grotesque speci- 
men of architecture, built by Jere- 
miah Beilin, who had made his money 
out of blacking. It was uncommonly 
like a factory, but perhaps the de- 
ceased Jeremiah liked something to 
remind him of the origin of his for- 
tune and keep him from thinking his 
ancestors came over with William the 
Conqueror. He married the daughter 


FELIX OR FRANCIS ? 


33 


of a baronet, and then took his de- 
parture to the next world, leaving his 
widow well provided for and his 
daughter an heiress in her own right. 
Mrs. Beilin was a pretty woman, 
with no brains and a giggling laugh. 
Her daughter had the beauty of her 
mother and the brains of her father, 
so she was altogether a charming 
girl. How she could tolerate her 
silly dolly of a mother I could never 
understand. Perhaps twenty-three 
years of constant forbearance had 
inured her to the trial. 

On arriving at the front door I 
learned that Mr. Briarfield was within, 
and sent up my card, requesting a 
private interview. For the present I 
did not wish to see Olivia, as it was 
my intention to warn Felix that I was 
cognizant of his trickery. My theory 
was proved correct by the following 
dialogue : 

Myself : “ Is Mr. Briarfield with- 
in ? ” 

Footman : “ Yes, sir. Mr. Francis 
Briarfield has just returned from 
town.” 

After which question and answer I 
was shown into a room. Observe 
that I said “ Mr. Briarfield,” and the 
footman answered “ Mr. Francis 
Briarfield.” Now, as I well knew 
that the man bearing that name was 
lying dead at the Fen Inn, it was 


34 


THE LONE INN. 


conclusive proof that Felix, to gain 
the hand of Olivia, was masquerading 
as his brother. I had just argued 
this out to my complete satisfaction 
when Felix made his appearance. 

The resemblance between the 
brothers was extraordinary. I had 
some difficulty in persuading myself 
that the man before me was not he 
whom I had seen dead that morning. 
The same pale face, dark hair, and 
jaunty mustache, the same gestures, 
the same gravity of demeanor, and 
actually the same tones in the voice. 
There was not the slightest difference 
between Felix and Francis ; the one 
duplicated the other. I no longer 
wondered that Olivia was deceived. 
Despite my acquaintance with the 
brothers, I should have been tricked 
myself. As it was I stared open- 
mouthed at the young man. 

“ This is a pleasant surprise, Den- 
ham,” he said, looking anxiously at 
me. “ I did not know you were in 
this part of the world.” 

“ Nor was I until yesterday. I am 
on a walking tour, and last night 
slept at the Fen Inn.” 

“The Fen Inn,” he repeated, with 
a slight start ; “ what took you to 
that out of the way place ? ” 

“ I came by the marshes, and, as I 
was belated, had to take the shelter 
that offered.” 


FELIX OR FRANCIS ? 


35 


“ But, man alive ! ” said Felix, rais- 
ing his eyebrows, “ the inn is 
empty.” 

This time it was my turn to be 
astonished. If Felix thought the inn 
was empty, why did he appoint it as 
a meeting place for his brother ? He 
either knew too much or too little, 
so it behooved me to conduct the con- 
versation with the utmost dexterity. 

“ It was not empty last night, at 
all events,” I retorted, keeping my 
eyes fixed on his face. 

“ Indeed ! Are gypsies encamped 
there ?” he said coolly. 

“ Well, not exactly,” I answered, 
•emulating his calm ; “ it was in charge 
of a man called Strent, and his 
daughter.” 

“This is news to me. I was al- 
ways under the impression that the 
Fen Inn was quite deserted.” 

“You have not been near it 
lately ? ” 

“ No ! Nobody goes near it. 
They say it is haunted.” 

“ Pshaw,” I answered angrily, “ an 
old wife’s tale. And yet,” 1 added, 
after a moment’s thought, “ it may 
well be haunted after what took place 
there last night.” 

“ This begins to grow interesting,” 
said Felix. “ Had you an adven- 
ture ? ” 

“Yes ! I met with your brother.” 


3 6 


THE LONE INN. 


“Impossible! My brother Felix 
is in Paris.’ 1 

“ I am talking of Francis.” 

“ Francis ! ” he repeated, with a 
disagreeable smile. “Francis! Well, 
Denham ! I am Francis.” 

“ I think you are making a mis- 
take, Briarfield,” said I coldly ; 
“your brother Francis slept at the 
Fen Inn last night.” 

“ I slept in this house.” 

“ I quite believe that. But you 
are Felix ! ” 

“ Oh ! ” said Briarfield, bursting 
into a harsh laugh. “ I see you are 
making the inevitable mistake of 
mixing me up with my brother. It 
is pardonable under the circum- 
stances, otherwise I might resent 
your plain speaking.” 

The assurance of the man was so 
complete that I wondered if he knew 
that his secret was safe by the death 
of his brother. Such knowledge 
would account for his complacency. 
Yet it was quite impossible that he 
could know of the death, as he cer- 
tainly had not been to the inn. I 
knew that from my own knowledge. 

“If you are Francis,” said I 
slowly, “ you are engaged to Miss 
Beilin.” 

“ I am,” he answered haughtily, 
“ but by what right you ” 

“ One moment, Mr. Briarfield. 


FELIX OR FRANCIS ? 


37 


Miss Beilin gave her lover Francis a 
pearl ring. I do not see it on your 
finger.” 

He glanced down at his hand and 
grew confused. 

“ I lost it,” he muttered, “ I lost it 
some time ago.” 

“ That is not true ! ” 

“ Do you dare to ” 

“ I dare anything in connection 
with what I know to be a fraud. 
You are passing yourself off as 
your brother Francis.” 

“ By what right do you make this 
mad assertion ? ” 

“From what Francis told me last 
night.” 

“ But I tell you I am Francis,” he 
said savagely. “ Don’t I know my 
own name ?” 

“ If you are the man you assert 
yourself to be, where is the pearl 
ring?” 

“ I lost it.” 

“ You did not ! You never had 
it ! I saw it on the finger of Francis 
no later than last night.” 

“I think you are mad, Denham ! ” 
said Felix, white with passion ; “or 
else you must be talking of Felix, 
who is in Paris.” 

“ That untruth will not serve,” I 
said coldly. “ Felix is before me, 
and Francis is lying dead at the Fen 
Inn.” 


3 « 


THE LONE INN. 


“ What, Francis dead?” he cried 
unguardedly. 

“Ah! you admit it is Francis!” 

“ No, I don’t,” he retorted quickly. 
“ I only re-echoed your words. 
What do you mean by saying such a 
thing ?” 

For answer I rose from my seat 
and made for the door. The farce 
wearied me. 

“ Where are you going, Denham ?” 
he asked, following me up. 

“ For the police ! ” I answered, 
facing him. “Yes, I am determined 
to find out the mystery of Francis 
Briarfield’s death. You, his brother, 
decline to help me, so I shall place 
the matter in the hands of the author- 
ities ! ” 

“Upon my soul, Denham,” said 
Felix, detaining me, “you are either 
mad or drunk. I declare most sol- 
emnly that I am Francis Briarfield. 
From this story of yours I should 
think it was my brother Felix who is 
dead, did I not know he is in Paris.” 

“ A fine story, but it does not im- 
pose on me,” I answered scoffingly. 
“ Listen to me, Briarfield. Your 
brother Francis went out to South 
America some six months ago. Be- 
fore he went he was engaged to Miss 
Beilin. The mother would not hear 
of the marriage, so the engagement 
was kept quiet. You alone knew of it 


FELIX OR FRANCIS ? 


39 


and took advantage of such knowl- 
edge to suppress the letters sent to 
Miss* Beilin through you by Francis, 
and represent yourself to Olivia as 
her lover returned three months be- 
fore his time. You, I quite believe, 
are supposed to be in Paris, so that 
you may the more easily carry out 
the game.” 

“ This is mere raving ! ” 

“ It is the truth, and you know it. 
As Miss Beilin did not answer his 
letters, Francis thought something 
was wrong and returned home. 
Afraid lest he should find out your 
plot, you asked him to meet you at 
i the Fen Inn, and there either intended 
to throw yourself on his mercy or — to 
murder him ! ” 

“ Murder him ! ” he repeated 
fiercely ; “ it is false ! ” 

“ That will be for the police to 
determine ! ” 

“ But surely, Denham, you don’t 
intend to inform the police?” 

“ I am going to do so now.” 

Felix seized me by the arm and 
dragged me back to my seat. He 
was now much agitated, but made 
every effort to restrain his emotion. 

“ Sit down,” he said in a hoarse 
tone. “You do me wrong, Den- 
ham — on my soul you do me wrong. 
I was engaged ! I am engaged to 
Olivia Beilin ; her mother consented 


40 


THE LONE INN. 


to our engagement after I returned 
to England three months ago. Felix, 
I believe, is in Paris ! I don’t know 
whom you met at the inn last night. 
It was not I — it could not have been 
Felix. There was no appointment 
between us. I am not masquerading 
as Francis, because I am Francis.” 

“ I don’t believe you ! ” 

“You must ! I can bring forward 
witnesses to prove my identity ! ” 

“ They may be misled by the 
resemblance. Remember you and 
Francis are twins.” 

“ I said before, and I say it again, 
you are mad ! ” he cried, roughly 
casting me off. “Who ever heard 
of an appointment being made at a 
ruined inn ? No one has lived there 
for months. Anyone in Marshmin- 
ster will tell you so.” 

“ Strentand hisdaughter Rose ” 

I began, when he cut me short. 

“ Who are they ? I never heard of 
them. They are figments of some 
dream. You went into that ruined 
inn last night and dreamed all this.” 

“You don’t believe my story?” 

“ Not one word,” said Felix, coolly 
looking me straight in the face. 

“ Then I don’t believe one word of 
yours!” I cried, jumping up; “let 
us place the matter in the hands of 
the authorities and see who will be 
believed.” 


FELIX OR FRANCIS? 


41 


“ What are you going to say, Den- 
ham ? ” 

“Say! that Francis Briarfield has 
died in the Fen Inn.” 

“You won’t believe that I am 
Francis?” he said, evidently making 
some resolve. 

“ No, you are Felix ! ” 

“ One moment,” he said, going to 
the door ; “ I shall prove my identity, 
and in a manner that will admit of 
no denial.” 

With that he vanished, and I 
waited to see what further evidence 
he would bring forward to back up 
his imposture. 




CHAPTER IV. 

Olivia’s evidence. 
ytvOT 3 ^ 

HERE was no doubt that 
Felix intended to continue 
[M ^p|j passing himself off as Fran- 
cis. For how long I was 
uncertain ; perhaps for the 
rest of his natural life, or 
until he made Olivia his wife. In 
this latter event he could reveal the 
fraud with impunity and revert to * 
his own identity. I could not help 
thinking that he had been informed 
beforehand of the death of his 
brother, else he would not have 
dared to keep up his imposture with 
a possible revelation so near at hand. 
Even assuming such ignorance, I had 
now told him of the death myself, and 
so strengthened his position. I re- 
gretted that I had not been more 
cautious. 

I was curious to see whom he 
would bring forward as a witness to 
his identity. Scarcely Olivia, as if 


Olivia’s evidence. 


43 


she once had a suspicion of the truth 
she would never rest until all was 
cleared up to her satisfaction. I 
hardly thought Felix would run such 
a risk, the more so as his story of 
losing the pearl ring could not stand 
against my assertion that it was on 
the finger of the dead man. If he 
still persisted in declaring himself to 
be Francis, I determined that he 
should ride with me to the Fen Inn 
and there see the corpse of the 
man whose name he had so shame- 
lessly assumed. That would surely 
settle the matter. 

Felix was bolder than I gave him 
credit for, as his witness proved to be 
none other than Olivia Beilin. She 
entered the room with assumed light- 
ness, but her face was anxious and 
she glanced every now and then at 
Felix, as though to seek his aid and 
countenance. He, as was natural, 
wore a haggard expression. His 
nerves were tensioned up to the 
highest pitch, a matter of small won- 
derment, seeing that his life’s happi- 
ness depended upon this interview. 

“ What is this strange story you 
bring, Mr. Denham ? ” asked Olivia, 
greeting me coldly. In our best 
days we were never overfriendly. 

“ Has not Mr. Briarfield told you ? ” 

“ I have not had the time,” inter- 
posed Felix quickly ; “ beyond a few 


44 


THE LONE INN. 


hints of the truth she knows noth- 
ing.” 

“ Not even that you are Felix 
Briarfield ? ” 

“ Felix ! ” repeated Miss Beilin in 
surprise. “ But you are making a 
mistake, Mr. Denham ; this is 
Francis.” 

“ So he says ! ” 

“ You see, Olivia,” said Briarfield, 
addressing Miss Beilin, “ Denham 
insists upon taking me for my brother 
Felix.” 

“ How absurd ! I assure you, 
Mr. Denham, that Felix is in Paris. 
I only received a letter from him this 
morning.” 

“ Impossible ! ” said I, taken aback 
by the authority of her tone. 

“ It is quite true,” she continued 
hurriedly. “ Excuse me for a mo- 
ment, and I shall fetch the letter. 
You must believe the evidence of 
your own eyes.” 

When she left the room, Felix 
turned toward me with a gleam of 
triumph in his eyes. 

“ Are you convinced ? ” he asked 
mockingly. 

“ No ; I am puzzled.” 

“ In what way ? ” 

“To think how you managed to 
get that letter sent on from Paris 
without being there yourself.” 

“ Against stupidity the gods them- 


Olivia's evidence. 


45 


selves fight in vain,” quoth Felix, 
shrugging his shoulders. “ I assure 
you that my brother Felix is in 
Paris. Miss Beilin is about to pro- 
duce a letter received from him only 
this morning, and yet you insist that 
I am not myself, and that he whom 
I pretend to be is dead. You are 
mad.” 

“ Here is the letter,” said Miss 
Beilin, entering at this moment. 
“You see it bears the date of yester- 
day, He is at present staying at the 
Hotel des Etrangers, Rue de St. 
Honore, but talks of going to Italy.” 

I examined the letter closely. It 
was genuine enough ; of that there 
was no doubt, as it bore the French 
and English postmarks. I quite be- 
lieved that it was written by Felix, 
but also that it had been forwarded 
from Paris by an emissary of the 
young man in order to keep up the 
needful deception. Certainly Felix 
had a marked talent for intrigue. 

“ If Felix Briarfield is in Paris,” 
said I, handing back the letter to 
Olivia, “ who was it I met at the Fen 
Inn last night ? ” 

“ The Fen Inn ! ” replied Olivia, 
with a puzzled look ; “ why, no one 
lives there now, Mr. Denham. It is 
in ruins, and has been empty for over 
two years.” 

“ Nevertheless, it was tenanted 


4 6 


THE LONE INN. 


last night, and I slept there. Also I 
met Francis Briarfield at the same 
place.” 

“Francis was not out of the 
house last night,” declared Olivia 
decisively. 

“ Quite true,” he replied. “ I 
went to bed early with a bad head- 
ache.” 

“ It was not you I met at the inn 
last night, but your brother Francis.” 

“ How can you persist in so 
foolish a story ? ” said Olivia 
angrily. “ This is Francis, and 
Felix is in Paris. You could not 
have met either of them at the Fen 
Inn last night, and, indeed, I can’t 
believe that you slept there at all ! ” 

“ I did, Miss Beilin, and there I 
met Francis.” 

“ If you did, where is he now ? 
Why not clear up the mystery by 
bringing him here with you ? ” 

“ Because he is dead ! ” 

“ Dead ! ” she echoed, catching 
the arm of Felix. “ Dead ! Who is 
dead ? ” 

“ Francis Briarfield.” 

“ He is mad,” she said to Felix in 
a low tone, her face white with fear. 

“ Upon my word, I am beginning 
to think so myself,” I said, losing 
my temper ; “ but I declare on my 
oath that I speak the truth. There 
is only one way of solving the 


Olivia’s evidence. 


47 


riddle. Come out with me to the 
Fen Inn, and look on the face of 
the dead man I say is Francis Briar- 
field. A single glance will give the 
lie to the assertion of this man who 
pretends to be your lover ! ” 

Felix looked at Olivia, she at him. 
It seemed to me that they grew a 
shade paler. I wondered whether 
any guilty bond existed between 
them, as certainly they seemed to 
understand one another very well. 
Olivia appeared anxious to protect 
Felix from harm. Either she really 
believed him to be Francis, or had 
taken her heart from one brother and 
given it to the other. It was she 
who spoke first in and throughout 
the interview ; the woman played a 
more daring game than did the man. 
Her attitude puzzled me, and for the 
moment I was quite in the dark as to 
what were her real thoughts regard- 
ing my story and that of the pseudo 
Francis. 

“ We cannot go to-night,” she 
said, with some hesitation, “but to- 
morrow morning, if you like, we will 
ride out to the inn.” 

I glanced at my watch. 

“ It is now five o’clock,” said I ; 
“ and will be light up to nine or 
thereabouts. There is plenty of 
time for us to ride to the Fen Inn, and 
I think it advisable to do so at once.” 


THE LONE INN. 


“Why not to-morrow morning?” 
objected Felix. 

“ Great Heavens, Briarfield ! have 
you no natural affection ? Don’t I 
tell you that your brother is lying 
dead there ? Can’t you understand 
the necessity of attending to so seri- 
ous a matter without delay ? If you 
have no affection, you might at least 
have decency.” 

“ I decline to believe that my 
brother is dead,” said Briarfield 
coolly ; “ that letter shown to you 
by Olivia proves that he was in Paris 
yesterday. He could not have come 
over so quickly, and, besides, would 
have no reason to go to the Fen Inn.” 

“ Of course, if you insist upon as- 
suming your brother’s name, I can 
say nothing, but I know the truth, 
and had it from the lips of Francis.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked 
Olivia. 

“ I mean that Francis returned 
from Chili a few days ago and went 
to the Fen Inn by appointment in 
order to hear the explanation of 
Felix.” 

“ What explanation ? ” 

“ The reason of Felix passing him- 
self off as Francis.” 

“You are utterly mistaken, Mr. 
Denham. I swear that this is 
Francis, the man to whom I am 
engaged ! ” 


Olivia’s evidence. 


49 


“ Can you wish for stronger- 
proof ? ” asked Felix, with the 
marked intention of insulting me. 

I paid no attention to his sneer, 
but turned round to Miss Beilin, and 
asked a pertinent question. 

“ Where is the pearl ring you gave 
Francis, Miss Beilin ? ” 

“ The pearl ring ! ’’she said, much 
agitated. “Yes, I did give Francis 
a pearl ring, but he lost it. Did you 
not lose it, Francis?” she added, 
turning toward her lover. 

“ Two months ago.” 

“ Well, Miss Beilin,” said I de- 
liberately, “ if you come out with 
me to the Fen Inn, I will show you 
the pearl ring on the finger of the 
dead man.” 

“ It cannot be — it is impossible,” 
she murmured, clasping her hands 
together in great distress. “ I am 
utterly bewildered by your talk. 
Francis returned from Chili three 
months ago, and my mother con- 
sented to our engagement.” 

“ It was not Francis who returned,” 
I asserted doggedly, “but Felix — 
Felix, who pretends to be in Paris.” 

“ But this letter ! ” 

“ Bah ! That was written here by 
Briarfield, and forwarded to a friend 
in Paris to be posted back to 
you.” 

“ Liar ! ” cried Felix, dashing for- 


THE LONE INN. 


50 


ward with clenched fists ; “ if you 
don’t retract that statement, I’ll ” 

“ For pity’s sake be quiet,” en- 
treated Olivia, throwing herself be- 
tween us. “ Do not bring my mother 
here. Francis, you do not know the 
harm you are doing. Mr. Denham,” 
she added, turning to me as he sud- 
denly stepped back, “ do you say 
this gentleman is Felix ? ” 

“ I do ! Most decidedly. 

“ I tell you, sir, it is not so. This 
is my affianced lover, Francis. Great 
Heavens ! could a woman make a 
mistake in so serious a matter?” 

“ I believe the resemblance between 
the brothers would deceive anyone.” 

“ Let us settle the question by go- 
ing to the Fen Inn,” said Felix 
sharply. “ I’ll wager that there we 
find neither landlord nor anyone.” 

“ You don’t believe me,” said I 
quickly. 

“ I do not, sir. I believe you have 
dreamed all this rubbish. I am here 
— I, Francis Briarfield ; Felix, my 
brother, is in Paris ; and as to your 
cock and bull story of a murder at 
the Fen Inn, I don’t believe a word 
of it.” 

“ Very well, Briarfield,” I said, 
picking up my hat. “ You have 
chosen your course, I will now 
choose mine. Hitherto I have kept 
the affair quiet for your sake and for 


Olivia's evidenge. 


5 1 


that of Miss Beilin. Now I will 
place the matter in the hands of the 
authorities, and wash my hands of 
the whole affair.” 

“ Do what you think fit,” retorted 
Briarfield fiercely, and turned his 
back on me. Stung by his contemp- 
tuous manner, I walked smartly 
toward the door, but was stopped 
on the threshold by Miss Beilin. 

“ It is no use your going to see 
the police, Mr. Denham,” she said 
anxiously. “ I assure you it will only 
get you into trouble. Your story is 
too wild to believe. They will say 
you are mad.” 

“ I’ll take the risk of that. I am 
not yet so mad as not to believe the 
evidence of my own eyes. Let me 
pass, Miss Beilin.” 

“ Stay ! ” she said in a. peremptory 
tone. “Let me speak a moment 
with Francis.” 

I bowed my head in token of 
acquiescence, and she glided back to 
where Felix was looking out of the 
window. For a few minutes they 
spoke together in low, hurried voices. 
She seemed to be entreating and he 
refusing. At length he evidently 
yielded to her prayers, for he sank 
into a chair with a gesture of despair, 
and she returned to my side. 

“ I don’t wish you to get into 
trouble, Mr. Denham,” she said 


52 


THE LONE INN. 


coldly, “ nor do I wish yon to use 
my name, as you assuredly will do in 
making your report to the police. I 
believe this story of yours to be an 
hallucination, and, in order to con- 
vince you of it, am willing to ride 
out to the Fen Inn to-morrow with 
you and Francis. When we arrive 
there, I assure you we shall see noth- 
ing.” 

“ I am certain you’ll see more than 
you bargain for,” said I dryly. “ I 
would rather you went there to- 
night.” 

“ I cannot. My mother would not 
allow me to go. Be a little consid- 
erate, Mr. Denham.” 

I saw the justice of this reasoning, 
and forebore to press the point. 
After all, so long as they went the 
time did not much matter. 

“ Then let it be to-morrow morn- 
ing,” I said coldly, “at ten o’clock. 
I will be at your park gates. If you 
and Briarfield are not there, I go at 
once to the police office and give 
information concerning the murder 
of Francis.” 




CHAPTER V. 


AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY. 



FTER that momentous in- 
terview I presented my- 
self to my astonished 
relatives. These were two 
lovable old maids, sisters 
of my mother, who had 
passed the best # part of their ex- 
istence in the Cathedral Square 
of Marshminster. They knew every- 
body and all about everybody, and 
pottered through life with the as- 
sistance of a comfortable income 
which they shared in common, a 
trifle of gossip, and a series of 
afternoon teas. At the daily services 
of the cathedral they were always 
to be seen, and were intimately ac- 
quainted with the dean and chapter. 
Even the bishop condescended to 
take tea with them on occasions, and 
they held their heads high in conse- 
quence. Moreover, they loved me 
greatly, though I was but a graceless 
nephew to the good souls. 


54 


THE LONE INN. 


When I made my appearance, the 
Misses Durrantreceived me withopen 
arms. They had not expected me 
till much later in the month, but had 
already prepared for my reception. 
My portmanteau, which I had ordered 
to be sent down from London, had 
arrived, the bedding of my room was 
thoroughly well aired, and Rachel, 
their handmaiden, spread for me a 
sumptuous meal. When I washed 
and clothed myself anew, I made an 
excellent meal, for the long tramp 
from the Fen Inn made me hungry, 
I then sat down for a chat and a 
smoke. 

“I think he may, Jane," hinted 
Sophia gently. 

“ If he sits near the open window, 
Sophia,” was the firm reply, where- 
upon, this little comedy having been 
gone through as usual, I produced 
my pipe and took my appointed 
station. Thus settled I made in- 
quiries about Beilin Hall and its 
inmates. 

. “ I see you have the London beauty 
down here, aunt.” 

“ Olivia Beilin,” said they both in 
a breath, and then sighed. 

“ Is there anything to mourn 
about, Aunt Jane ? ” I asked, pricking 
up my ears for useful information 
which I knew these gossips could 
supply. 


AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY. 55 


“ Ah,” sighed Aunt Jane, folding 
her withered hands, “ who knows the 
wickedness of the heart ? ” 

“ Olivia’s heart ? ” 

“ Dear me, no, Lionel,” said Aunt 
Sophia, scandalized ; “ she is a good 
girl, — as good as she is lovely, — and 
not so silly as her mother,” con- 
cluded the old lady, with feminine 
spite. 

“ Then to whose heart do you 
allude ? ” 

This question started a duet be- 
tween the two old ladies. 

“ Francis Briarfield ! You remem- 
ber, Jane.” 

“ Yes, Sophia ! That hussy with 
the feather boa ” 

“ Was seen speaking to him in the 
cathedral by Bishop Jevon’s tomb.” 

“ And he seemed very intimate 
with her.” 

“ Still, Jane, he was glad when she 
left Marshminster.” 

“ Rather relieved, I think, Sophia.” 

“And poor Olivia Beilin knew 
nothing about his wickedness,” they 
concluded together. 

My heart beat rapidly. In this 
idle talk I saw a link which would 
bind Felix Briarfield to the girl at 
the Fen Inn. 

“ Was she a pretty girl ? ” I asked 
with well-simulated carelessness.” 

“ Handsome is that handsome 


56 


THE LONE INN. 


does,” snorted Aunt Jane, who was 
remarkably plain herself. 

“Sure, sister, she was not ill-look- 
ing,” said the gentler Sophia, who 
had been a toast in her youth ; “ she 
had a good figure and dark hair and 
eyes. I admired her complexion, 
Jane ! it was like cream, and a 
dimple here,” finished Sophia, touch- 
ing her chin, “ a pretty-pretty 
dimple.” 

“ Sophia ! ” 

“ Well, it was a pretty dimplejane. 
No one can deny that.” 

In this description I espied Rose 
Strent, especially as regards the 
dimple. I had noticed it myself. 
Evidently there was an understand- 
ing between this woman and Felix 
which had led to her taking up her 
quarters in the Fen Inn with her 
father — if indeed the landlord was 
her father, a fact I was beginning to 
doubt. I set the garrulous ladies off 
on another tack. 

“ Do you know anything about 
the Fen Inn, Aunt Jane ? ” 

“ The Lone Inn, child ! Never 
name it ! In my youth it was the 
scene of a terrible murder, and since 
that time no one has lived in it, save 
one man.” 

“It is now in ruins,” said Sophia, 
with bated breath, “ and is said to be 
haunted.” 


AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY. 57 


“ Does anyone go near it ?” 

“ No one : I don’t think there is a 
man in the country who would ven- 
ture near the Lone Inn after dark. 
Two years ago a stranger refurnished 
and repaired it. But he did not 
stay longer than a week.” 

“ What became of him ? ” 

“ He disappeared,” said Aunt 
Sophia, nodding her head solemnly, 
“ vanished altogether. It was sup- 
posed that he was drowned in the 
marshes. The house is still fur- 
nished, I believe, but no one goes 
near it.” 

“ What about the landlord ? ” 

“It’s in Chancery,” said Aunt 
Jane wisely; “it has no landlord.” 

After this discussion I went to bed 
with plenty to think about. I saw 
well enough that Strent and his 
daughter had taken up their abode 
in the ruined house for a certain 
purpose. That purpose was, I 
verily believe, to encompass the 
death of Francis Briarfield, and now 
that it was accomplished they dis- 
appeared. As Aunt Sophia said, the 
furniture of the former proprietor 
was still there, so a touch or two had 
rendered the house habitable. This 
accounted for their unwillingness to 
receive me as a guest, and for the 
mildewed aspect of the rooms which 
had struck me so forcibly. A second 


THE LONE INN. 


58 


tragedy had accentuated the evil 
reputation of the house. But while 
the first tragedy was known to all, 
the second was known only to myself 
and to — Felix Briarfield. 

I felt certain that he was con- 
nected in some way with the unex- 
pected death of his brother. Francis 
had been lured to that lonely inn for 
the purpose of being murdered, and 
the crime had been accomplished by 
Strent and his daughter. So far as 
I knew, Felix had not been near the 
bouse on the night in question, yet 
he was without doubt morally guilty 
of the crime. Olivia, believing him 
to be her lover Francis, did not place 
much faith in my story, but surely, 
when she was convinced by the sight 
of the dead body, and I had tom the 
mask from the face of Felix, she 
would let me deal with him as he 
deserved. 

Next morning I was up betimes, 
and, telling my aunts I would not be 
back till late, went round to the sole 
livery stables possessed by Marsh- 
minster. These were kept by Bob 
Fundy, a bow-legged little man, who 
had been a jockey in his youthful 
days, and who was a great friend of 
mine. He expressed great joy at my 
reappearance in Marshminster, and 
mounted me on the best of his steeds. 
I was in too great a hurry to ex-; 


AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY. 59 


change more than a few words with 
the genial old fellow, and set out at 
once for Beilin Hall. Later on I 
regretted my haste, as a few words 
of explanation from Fundy would 
have saved me much money and a 
long journey. 

At ten o’clock I was at the park 
gates, but Felix and Olivia had not 
yet put in an appearance. I intended . 
to denounce Felix as a murdererjn 
the presence of his brother’s dead 
body, and to tell Miss Beilin of his 
friendship with Rose Strent. Jeal- 
ousy, if nothing else, might make her 
guess the truth, and prevent Felix 
carrying on the shameless imposture 
in which he now indulged so inso- 
lently. Once I proved the identity 
of the dead man by means of the 
pearl ring, which Olivia would rec- 
ognize, I hoped to make short work 
of the pretensions of Felix. It was 
a difficult task, but I was now 
seized with what is known as detect- 
ive fever, and determined to run 
the assassin to earth. His name, I 
firmly believed, was Edward Strent ; 
and that Felix was an accomplice. 

It was questionable whether Rose 
Strent had taken any active part in 
the commission of the crime. 

In a few minutes I saw them riding 
down the avenue. They looked a 
handsome couple, and I sighed' to 


6o 


THE LONE INN. 


think how the outward appearance 
of Felix belied his foul spirit. Olivia 
looked remarkably beautiful and 
managed her horse to perfection. 
As they drew near I noted their hag- 
gard looks, as though they had passed 
the night without sleep, and again 
the thought flashed through my mind 
that there might be an understanding 
• between them. 

But however much Olivia knew, I 
felt sure she was ignorant that Francis 
had been done to death by his brother, 
else even she would have recoiled 
from so base a scoundrel. 

“ Here we are, you see,” said Felix 
defiantly, as I raised my hat to Miss 
Beilin, “ quite ready to set out on this 
wildgoose chase.” 

“ I am afraid you will find it more 
serious than you think, Briarfield.” 

“At all events we won’t find that 
body you speak of.” 

“I am certain you will, Mr. Felix 
Briarfield.” 

“You still insist that Francis is 
Felix,” said Olivia, as we rode on 
together. 

“ I am absolutely certain of it.” 

“What about this?” interposed 
Felix, reining up his horse and hand- 
ing me a telegram ; “ Olivia received 
it this morning.” 

I glanced at the telegram. It was 
from Felix in Paris to Olivia at 


AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY. 6 


Marshminster, and stated that he was 
going to Italy in a few days, but 
hoped to return for the wedding. I 
handed it back without remark, but 
it struck me as strange that such 
matter should have been sent by wire 
instead of by post. The telegram to 
my mind was only another move in 
the game Felix was playing so boldly. 

“ Well, Denham,” he said, restor- 
ing it to his pocket, “you see by that 
telegram that Felix is in Paris, and if 
so I must be Francis.” 

“ In that case,” said I, looking at 
him keenly, “ who is the dead man at 
the Fen Inn.” 

“ There is none there ! ” he an- 
swered jestingly, yet with a lurking 
anxiety which I was quick to note ; 
“ I have no third brother. We are 
twins, not triplets.” 

I vouchsafed no reply to this wit- 
ticism, which I judged to be in bad 
taste, but rode on rapidly. By this 
time we had left the town far behind, 
and were some way on the winding 
road which crossed the marshes. 
Miss Beilin evidently did not desire 
to talk, for she pushed forward well 
in front, and as Felix also relapsed 
into silence, we rode on smartly with- 
out uttering a word. A more dismal 
riding party I never saw. The keen 
wind brought a touch of color into 
the pale cheeks of Olivia, but she 


62 


THE LONE INN. 


had dark circles under her eyes and 
looked considerably worried. Felix 
rode by her side and addressed her 
every now and then, but I was too 
far in the rear to know what they 
said. I felt anything but comfortable 
while in their company, as they re- 
garded me with great disfavor. 

“ Never mind,” I thought, touch- 
ing my horse with the whip, “ once 
I bring Felix face to face with his 
dead brother he will be forced to 
abandon these airs. At whatever 
cost I must tear the mask off him, if 
only for the sake of that poor girl 
who believes so firmly in such a 
villain.” 

There was no change in the ap- 
pearance of the Fen Inn as we rode 
up to it, save that it looked more 
ruinous than ever. The solitary 
building had a sinister aspect, and 
even in the bright sunshine hinted at 
secret murder. I noticed how thick 
grew the grass round the house, 
thereby marking more strongly its 
desertion and desolation. Sure 
enough, it had not been inhabited 
for a considerable period, and this 
fact alone roused my suspicions as 
to the motives of Strent and his 
daughter. They could have no 
good design in staying in so hag- 
gard a dwelling. 

“ You see the inn is a ruin,” said 


AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY. 63 


Olivia, pointing toward it with her 
riding whip ; “ no one could find 
shelter there even for one night.” 

“ I did, Miss Beilin.” 

“ It was a dream,” she answered, 
“an idle dream. You may have 
slept there, but you never met Fran- 
cis within its walls.” 

“We are on a fool’s errand,” said 
Felix derisively; “I thought so all 
along.” 

“ Come and see,” I said, dismount- 
ing at the door of the inn ; “ he laughs 
best who laughs last.” 

It seemed to me that Olivia made 
as though to turn her horse’s head 
away from the house, but by this 
time the hand of Felix was already 
on the bridle rein, and she sup- 
pressed the momentary inclination 
to flee. The action revived my sus- 
picions. With a half sigh she dis- 
mounted with the aid of Felix and 
we entered the house. 

All was as I had left it. The blinds 
were down, the rooms mildewed and 
desolate, the fireplaces filled with 
heaps of gray ashes. Olivia drew 
her riding skirts closely round her 
and shuddered. I led upstairs to 
the room of Francis. Here the door 
had fallen down and we walked on it 
into the room. To my surprise the 
bed was empty. 

“ Well, Denham,” said Felix, after 


64 


THE LONE INN. 


a pause, “ where is the dead body to 
whom you have given my name ? ” 

“ Someone has been here and 
taken it away ! ” 

“ I don’t think so. The absence 
of the body only proves the truth of 
what I said from the first. You 
dreamed your adventure ! ” 

Before I could reply Olivia burst 
into hysterical tears. The strain on 
her nerves was very great, and now 
that the climax was reached she 
broke down utterly. Felix took her 
in his arms and soothed her as he 
best could, while I, utterly bewildered 
by the turn events had taken, care- 
fully searched the room. All was in 
vain. I could find neither body, nor 
clothes, nor aught pertaining to 
Francis Briarfield. I began to think 
to myself that I must be dreaming. 
But that was out of the question. 
The only conclusion I could come to 
was that Strent had watched me 
leave the house and then returned to 
make away with the body. Without 
doubt it was Strent who had slain 
my unfortunate friend, and now had 
hidden the corpse in some quaking 
bog. 

When Olivia broke down Felix led 
her from the room, and I went to the 
front door — there to find them 
mounted on their horses. 

“ We are going back to Marsh- 


AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY. 65 


minster,” said Felix, gathering up 
his reins ; “ thanks to this wildgoose 
chase Miss Beilin is quite ill. I trust 
now, sir, that you are convinced.” 

“ I am not convinced that you are 
Francis ! ” I answered doggedly. 

“ You still think I am Felix,” he 
asked, with a sneer. 

“ I do ! notwithstanding the dis- 
appearance of the body, which has 
been made away with by Strent. I 
firmly believe that Francis is dead, 
and that you are Felix Briarfield.” 

“ As we have seen nothing, Mr. 
Denham,” said Miss Beilin coldly, 
“ I must decline to believe your 
statement. This gentleman is 
Francis, and Felix is in Paris.” 

“ Very good,” said I quietly ; “ then 
I leave for Paris to-morrow.” 

“ For what reason ?” 

“I go to seek Felix. You say he 
is in Paris, I say he is now before 
me on that horse. You came to the 
Fen Inn and found no body, Miss 
Beilin ; I go to Paris — to the Hotel 
des Etrangers, and I’ll wager that I 
shall find no Felix.” 

They looked at one another in 
silence for a few moments. My 
remark evidently scared them. 

“ Are you going to put this matter 
in the hands of the police ? ” asked 
Felix. 

“ It is useless to do so now, as the 


66 


THE LONE INN. 


body of your brother has disappeared. 
I shall go to Paris, and if I do not 
find Felix there ” 

“Well?” she said, seeing I hesi- 
tated. 

“ I will tell the police all and have 
this neighborhood searched,” I said, 
concluding my sentence. 

Olivia laughed scornfully and rode 
away, while Felix, preparing to fol- 
low, uttered a last word. 

“ Consult a doctor, Denham, at 
once. You are mad, or subject to 
hallucinations.” 

And with that he set off at a 
smart trot, and I was left alone at 
the door of the inn. 

After the extraordinary experi- 
ences I had undergone I began to 
think there might be something in 
what he said. Nevertheless, I deter- 
mined for my own satisfaction to go 
to Paris and see if Felix Briarfield was 
at the Hotel des Etrangers. If he 
were not, then my suspicions might 
prove to be correct ; but if he were, 
then I might believe that my adven- 
ture at the inn was a dream. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE MAN IN PARIS. 

WING made up my mind 
what course to pursue, I 
returned to Marshminster, 
took leave of my relatives, 
and left that evening for 
London. There I re- 
mained two days reviewing the 
strange events in which I had lately 
been an actor. At one moment it 
was in my mind to abandon what 
certainly seemed to be a hopeless 
search, for I could not but see it 
was a matter of great difficulty to 
lay my hand on the assassin of 
Francis. It would be better, I 
thought, to place the matter in the 
hands of the police, and let them 
thrash it out for themselves. Two 
reasons prevented my taking this 
ignoble course. 

One was that Francis Briarfield 
had been a college friend, and I 
was unwilling that his death should 



68 


THE LONE INN. 


go unavenged. The story of his 
love for Olivia which he had told me 
at the inn contained the elements 
of a strange romance, fitly capped 
by his tragic end. I felt certain 
that Felix through his hired bravo — 
for I could call Strent by no other 
name — had encompassed the death 
of his brother. Felix was passion- 
ately in love with Olivia, and the 
unexpected return of Francis not 
only threatened to take her away 
from him, but also to reveal the 
scoundrelly fashion in which he had 
behaved. At one blow Felix would 
lose her love and respect, therefore 
his motive for averting such a catas- 
trophe was a strong one. That he 
should determine on fratricide was 
a terrible thought, but there was no 
other course left to him by which 
to secure the woman he loved, and 
the respect he valued. It was the 
mad action of a weak, passionate 
man such as I knew Felix to be. 
Too cowardly himself to strike the 
fatal blow, he had hired Strent to 
carry out his plans, and the death 
had been duly accomplished, though 
in what way I was quite unable to 
say. It was sufficient for me to 
know that Francis was dead, and 
I felt myself called upon to avenge 
his death. 

The other motive was perhaps the 


THE MAN IN PARIS. 


69 


stronger one of detective fever. I 
was a bachelor, I had a good income 
and nothing to do, therefore this 
quest was one of great interest to 
me. I had often hunted beasts, but 
this man hunt was a much more 
powerful incentive to excitement. I 
could hardly sleep for thinking of 
the case, and was constantly engaged 
in piecing together the puzzle. As 
yet I had no clear clew to follow, but 
the first thing to be settled was the 
identity of Felix at Marshminster 
with Felix at Paris. Once I estab- 
lished that point, and proved con- 
clusively that Felix had never left 
England, I would be in a position to 
prosecute the search in the neighbor- 
hood of Marshminster. 

I own that there was an additional 
reason in the pique I felt at the 
scornful disbelief of Olivia. She 
evidently considered my story pure 
fiction, and the strange disappear- 
ance of the corpse from the inn con- 
firmed her in this belief. Irritated 
by such contempt, I was resolved to 
bring home the crime to Felix, and 
to prove conclusively to her that he 
was masquerading as her lover, the 
dead Francis. It would be a cruel 
blow when assured of the truth, but 
it was better that she should suffer 
temporary pain to dragging out a 
lifelong agony chained to a man 


70 


THE LONE INN. 


whom I knew to be a profligate, a 
liar, and a murderer. 

At the end of two days I con- 
firmed myself in the resolution to 
hunt down the criminal, and decided 
as the first step to go to Paris. 
Leaving Victoria by the night mail, I 
arrived in the French capital next 
morning. Anxious to lose no fur- 
ther time, I hastened at once to the 
Hotel des Etrangers, in Rue de St. 
Honore, and there took up my quar- 
ters. Recovered from the fatigues 
of the journey, I partook of luncheon, 
and then made inquiries about Felix 
Briarfield. To my surprise I not 
only discovered that he was in Paris, 
but that he was in the hotel at that 
moment. 

“ Has he been staying here for 
any length of time ? ” I asked the 
manager. 

“ For six weeks, monsieur, and 
now talks of going to Italy,” was the 
astonishing reply. 

To say that I was surprised would 
give but a faint idea of what I felt. 
That the assertion of Olivia should 
thus prove true was almost impos- 
sible of belief. If Felix were here, 
and had been here for the past six 
weeks, it could not possibly be he 
whom I had met at Marsh minster. 
Assuming this to be the case, who 
was the man of the Fen Inn who 


THE MAN IN PARIS. 


71 


called himself Francis*? My head 
was whirling with the endeavor to 
grapple with these thoughts. Sud- 
denly an idea flashed into my brain 
which might possibly account for the 
mystery. 

“ Can it be,” thought I, “ that it 
was Felix whom I met at the inn ? 
Felix who tried to pass himself off 
as Francis, and then invented that 
lying story ? Perhaps he was not 
dead, as I thought, but merely 
plunged into a trance. When he 
revived, seeing the uselessness of 
fighting with Francis, he fled back to 
Paris.” 

All this time I stared hard at the 
manager. In reality I was puzzling 
out the mystery, and not paying any 
attention to the man before me. He, 
however, grew weary under my re- 
gard, and moved uneasily. 

“ Mr. Briarfield is now in his room, 
monsieur. Shall I take to him your 
card ? ” 

“ If you please,” I answered me- 
chanically, and handed it to him. In 
a few moments a waiter came with a 
message, stating that Mr. Briarfield 
would be glad to see me. I followed 
the man, in a state of the utmost 
bewilderment, and found myself in 
the presence of Felix before I knew 
what to say or do. He was so like 
Francis, whom I thought was -lying 


72 


THE LONE INN. 


dead at the Fen Inn, so like the man 
who passed as Olivia’s lover, that for 
the moment I could do nothing but 
stare at him. Yet he could be neither 
of the two, for one was dead and the 
other I had left behind at Marsh- 
minster. 

“ How are you, Denham ? ” he 
said, somewhat surprised at my 
strange conduct. “And why do you 
stare so steadily at me ? ” 

“Are you Felix Briarfield?” I 
gasped out. 

“ As you see,” he answered, raising 
his eyebrows ; “surely you know me 
well enough to dispense with so fool- 
ish a question.” 

“ And your brother ? ” 

“ He is at Marshminster, I believe, 
with Miss Beilin, to whom he is en- 
gaged. Why do you ask so strange 
a question ? ” 

I sat down on the sofa, and buried 
my face in my hands. Either I was 
out of my mind or the victim of some 
horrible hallucination. I certainly 
had met Francis at the inn, and be- 
held him dead under its roof. As 
surely had I seen the man I believed 
to be Felix at Marshminster. Yet 
here in Paris I beheld an individual 
who was neither the dead friend nor 
the living lover, and he called him- 
self Felix Briarfield. 

“ I must be mad ! I must be 


THE MAN IN PARIS. 


73 


mad ! ” was all I could say for the 
moment. 

“ What is the matter, Denham ? ” 
asked Briarfield, touching my 
shoulder. “ Are you ill ? ” 

For answer I seized first one hand 
and then the other. On neither ap- 
peared the least scratch. Yet the 
man whom I believed to be Francis 
had a ragged wound on the right 
hand. My theory of a trance 
vanished into thin air at this proof 
that the men were distinct. As- 
tounded by my action, Felix drew 
back in some alarm. 

“ How strangely you act, Den- 
ham,” he said uneasily. “ Is there 
anything wrong ? ” 

“ Do you think I am mad ? ” I 
asked irritably. 

“Your action just now was 
scarcely the act of a sane person. 
Why did you examine my hands ? ” 

“To see if they were cut in any 
way.” 

He turned the palms of his hands 
toward me, and shook his head with 
a slight laugh. 

“ You see,” he said, smiling, “they 
are absolutely free from cut or 
wound. Why do you expect them 
to be marred ? ” 

I made no reply, but passed my 
hand across my brow. The situation 
in which I found myself was so 


74 


THE LONE INN. 


strange and embarrassing that I did 
not know how to proceed. In the 
presence of facts I could not but 
admit that my story would sound but 
a wild invention. 

“Come, Denham,” said Briarfield 
soothingly, “you are doubtless in 
some trouble, and have come to 
me for help and advice. I’ll give 
both to the best of my ability.” 

“ I want neither,” I muttered in a 
low voice ; “ but if you will answer 
some questions I wish to ask, you 
will oblige me greatly.” 

Briarfield drew back with a queer 
look in his eyes, as if he thought my 
madness was increasing. However, 
he overcame the dread my actions 
apparently caused him, and an- 
swered civilly enough. 

“ Certainly ! If it will do you any 
good. What is it you wish to 
know ? ” 

“ Were you in England within the 
last seven days ? ” 

“ No ! I have not been in England 
for at least six weeks.” 

“ Do you know the Fen Inn ?” 

“ Never heard of it in all my life.” 

“ Are you acquainted with a girl 
named Rose Strent?” 

“ I don’t even know her name.” 

“When did your brother Francis 
return to England from South 
America? ” 


THE MAN IN PARIS. 


75 


“ Three months ago.” 

“ Have you seen him since his 
return ? ” 

“Frequently in London, but he is 
now, I believe, at Marshminster.” 

“ Do you know he is engaged to 
Miss Beilin ? ” 

“ Of course I do,” said Briarfield ; 
“ the marriage takes place shortly, 
and I am to be the best man — that 
is, if I return in time.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Well, I’m going to Italy to- 
morrow,” said the young man, shrug- 
ging his shoulders, “ and it is just — 
possible that I may prolong my tour 
to the East. In that case I may be 
absent from England for at least six 
months or more. During that time 
Francis will doubtless marry Olivia, 
and I shall not be able to be at the 
wedding.” 

“ You have not been to England 
within the last six weeks, you don’t 
know the Fen Inn, nor of the exist- 
ence of Rose Strent,” I summed up ; 
“ then I am the victim of some ex- 
traord i nary hallucination.” 

“ You are very extraordinary alto- 
gether,” retorted Briarfield. “ Now I 
have answered your questions, pray 
answer mine. Why do you ask all 
these things ? ” 

“ It is a strange story, and one 
which you will scarcely believe.” 


7 6 


THE LONE INN. 


“ Let me hear it.” 

Thus adjured, I told him the story 
of my adventure at the inn, but sup- 
pressed all mention of the belief I 
then entertained that the brothers 
had changed names. He listened 
attentively and eyed me with some 
concern. At the conclusion of the 
narrative he considered for a few 
moments before making any reply. 

“ I hardly know what to say,” he 
said at length. “ Your story is very 
circumstantial, yet you must have 
been deceived by the chance resem- 
blance.” 

“ I swear that the man I met at 
the Fen Inn was your brother 
Francis.” 

“ How can that be when Francis 
was at Beilin Hall, and Olivia said 
he had not been out of the house ? 
Besides, you say the man whom you 
believed to be Francis was murdered, 
yet you left Francis alive and well at 
Marshminster.” 

“ I thought Francis was you.” 

“ Ah ! Deceived by our resem- 
blance, no doubt.” 

“Yes! I think so,” I replied, not 
wishing to tell him of my suspicions. 

“ Well, you see, you made a mis- 
take ! Francis is at Marshminster, 
and I am here, I suppose,” he 
added jokingly. “You are quite 
convinced that I am Felix?” 


THE MAN IN PARIS. 


77 


“ I was quite convinced the other 
man was Francis.” 

“ Great Heavens, man, you surely 
don’t doubt that I am Felix Briar- 
field ? ” he cried irritably, rising to 
his feet. 

“ I don’t ! I can’t ! ” 

“ Perhaps you thought it was I 
whom you met at the inn ? ” 

“ No ! because the man I met at 
the inn is dead. Besides, he had a 
wound on his right hand, and you 
have not.” 

“ It’s a queer business altogether,” 
said Briarfield, walking to and fro. 
“ I cannot but agree with your idea 
of hallucination.” 

“ I tell you it is too real for hallu- 
cination.” 

“ Then how can you explain it ? ” 
he demanded sharply, pausing before 
me. 

“ I can’t explain it ' ” I replied 
helplessly. 

“ If you had discovered the 
corpse when you returned to the inn, 
there might be some chance of 
solving the mystery. But you admit 
there was no corpse there ! ” 

“ Not the vestige of one.” 

“ Then that proves the thing to be 
hallucination,” he said triumphantly. 
“If the man was murdered, who 
would take the trouble to remove 
the corpse ? ” 


78 


THE LONE INN. 


“ Strent might have done so to 
conceal the evidence of his crime.” 

“ He fled the previous night by 
your own acknowledgment. The 
whole thing is ridiculous. If I were 
you, Denham, I would see a doctor. 
That brain of yours is in a danger- 
ous state.” 

“ In spite of all you say, I am 
certain it was Francis I met at the 
inn.” 

“ How can that be when he whom 
you met is dead and Francis is alive ? 
It could not be Francis, and, as I 
have not been out of Paris, it could 
not have been me.” 

“ Then who was it ? ” 

“ Some stranger, no doubt, in whom 
you saw a facial resemblance to us.” 

“ Impossible ! ” 

“ So I think,” said Briarfield sig- 
nificantly ; “ for my part I think you 
are subject to delusions. Do not 
pursue this case, my friend, or you 
may find yourself in a lunatic 
asylum ! ” 

“ Will you come over to Marsh- 
minster and help me to solve the 
mystery ?” 

“ Certainly not, Denham. My 
plans are all made for Italy, and I go 
there to-morrow. I certainly don’t 
intend to put them off for such a 
wildgoose chase as you wish me to 
indulge in.” 


THE MAN IN PARIS. 


79 


I took up my hat and prepared to 
go. The matter was beyond my 
comprehension. 

“ There is nothing for me but to 
return to England.” 

“ Do ! ” said Briarfield in a pity- 
ing tone ; “ and give up following 
this Will-o’-the-wisp.” 

“ It seems hopeless enough.” 

“ Well, so far as I can see, it seems 
madness. Nothing more nor less. 
My brother Francis is at Marsh- 
minster, you see me here, so it is 
absolutely impossible you could have 
met either of us at that inn. .The 
more so as the man you met is dead, 
and we are both alive.” 

“ Yes ! Facts are too strong for 
me,” I said, holding out my hand. 
“ Good-by, Briarfield. Many thanks 
for your kindness ; but, oh, man ! ” 
I added, with a burst of bitterness, 
“ what does it all mean ? ” 

“ It’s hallucination,” said Briar- 
field ; “ place yourself at once in the 
hands of a doctor.” 




CHAPTER VII. 


LINKS IN THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 

FTER that interview with 
Felix I returned forth- 

with to London. I had 
accomplished the object 
of my journey, and did 
not care about staying 

Paris. My mind was 
much perturbed, as I was quite 
unable to come to any conclusion 
respecting the episode at the Fen 
Inn. Beyond all doubt I had 

proved that Francis was at Marsh- 

minster, Felix in Paris. Who, then, 
was the man whom I had met at the 
inn? It was impossible that I could 
be mistaken in the identity of my 
college friend, yet in the face of such 
evidence as I had gathered it was 
ridiculous to cling to my first impres- 
sions. There could not be three 
brothers exactly alike in personal 
appearance, and yet I had beheld 
three men, at the Fen Inn, at 



THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 8l 


Marshminster, and in Paris, who 
resembled each other in every re- 
spect. The more I pondered over the 
mystery the deeper did it become, and 
the more confused grew my brain. 

I began to think that I was the 
victim of some hallucination, as I 
could explain the matter in no other 
way. With this idea, which was the 
only feasible one left to me, I took 
the advice of Felix and on my 
return to town went to see Dr. 
Merrick. He, a specialist on dis- 
eases of the brain, listened to my 
story with great ‘attention, and ques- 
tioned me closely on all points. 

“There is some trickery about 
this, Mr. Denham,” he said, after 
consideration. 

“ You do not, then, think my meet- 
ing with Francis Briarfield was an 
hallucination ? ” I asked eagerly. 

“ There is no hallucination about 
you, sir,” was the comforting re- 
sponse ; “ you seem to me as sane 
and matter of fact a person as I have 
ever met.” 

“ Then, if it is not hallucination, 
how do you account for my having 
met three men all exactly alike, when 
I know there are only two with that 
special appearance in existence ? ” 

“ I think it is trickery,” repeated 
Merrick, nursing his chin. “ This is 
more a case for a detective than for 


82 


THE LONE INN. 


a doctor. Were I you, Mr. Denham, 
I would employ a good detective, 
and probe the mystery thoroughly. 
The matter seems miraculous to you 
now, but I feel sure when you learn 
the solution you will be astonished 
at its simplicity.” 

“ If I am sane, as you say, and as 
I believe myself to be, I will thrash 
out the matter myself.” 

“ Better get a trained man, Mr. 
Denham. From what you have told 
me I see you have to deal with a 
criminal of no ordinary intelligence. 
It is an extraordinary case,” mused 
the doctor, “ and I do not wonder at 
the fascination it seems to exercise 
over you. Were I in your place ” 

“Were you in my place?” seeing 
he hesitated. 

- “ Here am I setting up for a 
lawyer,” said Merrick quaintly. 
“ To tell you the honest truth, Mr. 
Denham, you have inoculated me 
me with detective fever. I should 
like to solve this problem myself. 
Criminal investigation has always 
been rather a hobby of mine. In 
my business I meet with some queer 
experiences. There are more insane 
people in the world than you think.” 

“ Tell me your ideas, doctor, and 
I’ll carry them out, and report prog- 
ress.” 

“ Good ! I’ll be the sleeping part- 


THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 83 


ner,” he said in an amused tone ; 
“ but I warn you, Mr. Denham, that 
from what I see of this case it will be 
one of great difficulty, and may take 
months to work out.” 

“ I don’t mind that ; it is nothing 
to an idle man like myself ; but I am 
afraid, Dr. Merrick, I take up your 
valuable time.” 

“ Oh, I can spare a few minutes,” 
said the doctor quickly. “ I work 
hard enough, so it is permitted to 
even a professional man to indulge 
occasionally in some amusement. 
This case is so to me.” 

“ Well, and your idea ?” 

“ In the first place, I am inclined 
to agree with your ideas of Felix 
passing himself off as Francis.” 

“ I have abandoned that idea,” 
said I dolefully ; “ I saw Felix in 
Paris.” 

“Wait a moment,” replied Mer- 
rick, “ we’ll come to that later on. 
Furthermore, I believe it was Felix 
you met at Marshminster — Felix, 
who called himself Francis, and 
posed as the lover of Miss Beilin.” 

“ But I saw him in Paris,” said I, 
again clinging to that undeniable 
fact. 

“ I know you did, but the pre- 
tended Francis of Marshminster, and 
the real Felix of Paris, are one and 
the same person.” 


8 4 


THE LONE INN. 


“ You mean that he followed me 
over?” I cried, suddenly enlightened. 

“ Precisely, and suborned the man- 
ager of the Hotel des Etrangers.” 

“ But why should he do that ? ” 

“ Can’t you see ? ” said Merrick 
impatiently. “ Felix wants to put a 
stop to your following up this case. 
From your story it is quite probable 
that he killed his brother through 
Strent. The whole circumstances of 
that Lone Inn are very suspicious. 
Your unforeseen arrival that night 
complicated matters. You saw how 
unwilling they were to admit you. 
Had you not arrived, Francis would 
have vanished from the world, and 
none would have been a bit the wiser. 
But when you came to Beilin Hall, 
Felix saw a new source of danger, 
not only to his character, but to his 
life. He asked for a night’s grace. 
During that night he went himself to 
the Fen Inn, and hid the corpse in 
some boghole.” 

“ Impossible ! ” 

“ I’ll stake my life that it is so,” 
said Merrick calmly. “ Make inqui- 
ries as to the movements of Felix 
Briarfield on that night, and I'll lay 
anything you’ll find he went to the 
Fen Inn.” 

“ That, then,” said I, “ was the 
reason he was so ready to go there 
next morning with me.” 


THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 85 


“ Exactly ! He knew well, thanks 
to his forethought, that there was no 
evidence there to convict him of a 
crime, and he could still keep up his 
imposture. So far all was in his 
favor, but your obstinacy raised a 
new danger. You said you would 
go to Paris and satisfy yourself of 
the existence of Felix. Now, then, 
you remained two days in London. 

“Yes; I was not quite sure 
whether it was worth while carry- 
ing on the matter.” 

“ It was a pity you wasted so 
much time,” said Merrick, “ foi* Felix 
took advantage of your negligence 
to slip over to Paris, and lay a trap 
for you. In plain words, he dis- 
appeared from Marshminster as 
Francis, and reappeared in Paris as 
Felix.” 

“ He might have done so ! But 
don’t you think I would have 
guessed the identity of the one 
with the other ? ” 

“ How could you,” said the doc- 
tor, “ when the twins are alike in 
every respect ? And, moreover, you 
firmly believed Olivia Beilin’s lover 
was in Marshminster.” 

“ But if I go down at once to 
Marshminster, I’ll detect the absence 
of Felix, and so guess what has taken 
place.” 

“If you go down to Marshminster, 


86 


THE LONE INN. 


you’ll find Felix back again in his 
old place.” 

“Then Paris?” I queried un- 
easily. I was beginning to see I 
had been duped. 

“ You forget Mr. Felix of Paris 
has gone to Italy and left no 
address. It’s all safe there, and, 
as he said he was going to the East 
for six months or so, there will be 
plenty of time for the pretended 
Francis to marry Olivia.” 

“ You don’t believe that Felix of 
Paris has gone to Italy or the 
East?” 

“ Of course not ! I believe he 
arranged all these matters to baffle 
your prying, and then calmly re- 
turned to Marshminster.” 

“ But the manager of the hotel ? ” 

“ He is in the pay of Felix. 
You’ll get nothing out of him. 
Now, I am certain that is the 
explanation. Are you not surprised 
at its simplicity ?” 

“Yes, I am! It is astonishing 
I never thought of it before.” 

“ Columbus and his egg once 
again,” said Merrick grimly. “Well, 
what are you going to do next ? ” 

“To drive to Marshminster, and 
find out the movements of Felix on 
the night after the murder.” 

“ Quite so ; but first satisfy your- 
self on the subject of Francis.” 


THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 87 


“ What do you mean ? ” I asked. 

“ What day of the month were you 
at the Fen Inn ? ” continued Mer- 
rick. 

“ On the 10th of June.” 

“Good! Francis there told you 
that he had just arrived from Chili. 
Now, find out what boat he came by, 
look up his name in the passenger 
list, and ascertain the date on which 
the true Francis arrived in England. 
That point established, you can 
prove the false Francis to be an 
impostor.” 

“ An excellent idea,” said I, start- 
ing to my feet. “ I’ll see about it at 
once.” 

“ And mind,” said Merrick, raising 
his forefinger, “ I expect to be kept 
fully advised of the case.” 

“ Never fear, doctor. You are 
excellent at solving puzzles. When 
I find another nut, I’ll bring it to 
you to crack.” 

“ Do ! I take a great interest in 
this sort of cases. I ought to have 
been a lawyer instead of a doctor.” 

“ I’m thankful for my own sake 
you are the latter,” said I, shaking 
his hand. “ Good-by, doctor ; I am 
greatly obliged for the kind interest 
you have taken in this case.” 

“ Pure selfishness, I assure you,” 
replied Merrick ; and so I took my 
leave. 


88 


THE LONE INN. 


Before searching the shipping lists 
I sent two telegrams — one to the 
manager of the Hotel des Etrangers, 
asking if Mr. Felix Briarfield was 
still there ; the other to my aunt 
Jane, inquiring whether Mr. Francis 
Briarfield was in Marshminster. This 
business having been dispatched, I 
took a hansom to the City, and saw 
a merchant of my acquaintance. He 
was an old friend, and willing to 
oblige life in every way. 

“ Chambers,” said I, when in his 
office, “ I want to find out a ship 
that arrived in London from Chili 
during the present month.” 

“ During* June,” said Chambers. 
“ Well, there’s no difficulty about 
that. What is her name ? ” 

“ That is one of the things I wish 
to find out ; also the names of the 
passengers.” 

“ Come with me to the Jerusalem,” 
said Chambers, picking up his hat ; 
“ you’ll find there her name and 
agents. Go to the agents and they 
will supply you with a list of the 
passengers. What’s- up now ? ” 

“ Nothing particular,” I answered 
carelessly. “ I have reason to 
believe a friend of mine returned 
from South America this month, and 
I want to make certain.” 

“ Well, if he came under his 
own name, you’ll have no diffi- 


THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 89 


culty in doing so. Here’s the 
Jerusalem ! ” 

This, it is well known, is a shipping 
club for the convenience of mer- 
chants. It tells them all about in- 
going and outgoing vessels, gives 
information regarding cargoes, and, 
in fact, supplies all kinds of 
knowledge useful to those who have 
argosies afloat. Chambers was well 
acquainted with the mode of pro- 
cedure, so I let him do all the work. 
It was now the 16th of June, 
and, as Francis had informed me he 
had arrived during the month, there 
was not much difficulty in finding 
what I wanted. 

“ Here you are,” said Chambers, 
beckoning to me ; “ only one ship 

this month from Chili — a steamer, 
the Copiapo . Arrived on the 6th of 
June. Dane & Paxton, 45 Devereux 
Lane.” 

I copied this down in my note- 
book, refused Chambers’ hospitable 
invitation to luncheon, and went off 
at once to Devereux Lane. Here 
I had no difficulty in seeing the 
passenger list of the Copiapo, and 
one of the first names I set my eyes 
on was “ Francis Briarfield.” 

“ This puts the matter beyond all 
doubt,” said I, making a note of 
this; ‘‘if Francis Briarfield did not 
arrive in London till the 6th of 


9 ° 


THE LONE INN. 


this month, he cannot be the man 
now bearing his name at Beilin 
Hall.” 

I was now perfectly satisfied that 
Merrick’s idea was correct. In order 
to confuse and throw me off the 
scent Felix had followed me to Paris, 
and appeared in propria persona. 
But for the doctor’s suggestion of 
the shipping list I should not have 
been able to prove this, but now I 
held incontrovertible evidence in my 
hands to prove that Felix was trad- 
ing on the marvelous resemblance 
between his brother and himself. 
Francis had arrived in England on 
the 6th of* June, he had met me at 
the Fen Inn on the 10th, and had 
there been foully done to death by 
his brother through a third party. 
But I was now on the trail and hoped 
to run to earth both the unnatural 
brother and his vile tool. I felt like 
the hero of some wild romance. 

On returning to my rooms in Duke 
Street I wrote off at once to Mer- 
rick, telling him of my success in 
proving the identity of Francis with 
the man who had been slain at the 
lone inn. It now remained for me 
to go down to Marshminster and 
there make inquiries as to the move- 
ments of Felix on the night in ques- 
tion. I felt confident that I could 
pursue such a search without hin- 


THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE. 91 


drance, as he would be quite satisfied 
that I would now rest after the Paris 
episode. No man in his senses would 
search for a dead man when that 
man had been conclusively proved 
to be alive. So Felix doubtless 
thought, and rejoiced in his clever- 
ness in thus putting an end to my 
inquiries. But mark how ironical is 
Fate. Felix advised me to consult a 
doctor about my hallucination, as he 
chose to call it. I took that advice 
and saw Merrick. Merrick had nulli- 
fied all his plans by solving the riddle 
with which Felix was trying to baffle 
me. 

It was hard on Felix to thus be the 
means of pointing the way to his own 
destruction. But, then, Fate is so 
ironical. 

That afternoon I received answers 
to my telegrams. The first, from 
Paris, stated that Mr. Felix Briarfield 
had started for Italy ; the second, 
from Marshminster, informed me 
that Francis Briarfield was staying 
at Beilin Hall. 

“ No,” said I, on reading these 
telegrams, “ Felix Briarfield did not 
leave Paris for Italy, but for Marsh- 
minster, and Francis Briarfield, poor 
soul, is not at Beilin Hall, but lying 
in the Essex marshes.” 

That night at five o’clock I left for 
Marshminster. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

A CLEW TO THE MYSTERY. 

^nHE drama of “The Prodi- 
gal Son ” was enacted 
over again when I re- 
turned to Marshminster. 
20 My aunts had greatly re- 
sented my sudden depar- 
ture to Paris, and announced that 
they this time intended to keep me 
with them for some weeks. I had 
no objection to this arrangement, as 
I anticipated a long and laborious 
task in ferreting out evidence against 
Felix. The first thing to be done 
was to learn all that had taken place 
in my absence, and the information 
was ably supplied by Aunt Jane, 
seconded by her sister. I inquired 
about Briarfield and his fiancee. 

“ Beilin Hall is to be shut up next 
week,” said Aunt Jane; “the Beilins 
are going to town, and with them 
Mr. Briarfield. 

“ I wonder they stayed here so 



A CLEW TO THE MYST11RY. 93 


long when the season was on in 
London,” said Aunt Sophia, “ but 
it was all that foolish Mrs. Beilin. 
She chose to consider herself ill, and 
so insisted upon remaining here. 
Now she can’t resist the attractions 
of town life any longer, and goes 
next week.” 

“ She has to arrange about the 
wedding, Sophia. You know it takes 
place in July. I wonder if Mr. Felix 
Briarfield will be back in time to be 
best man.” 

“ That I can safely say is impos- 
sible,” said I dryly. 

“ But why ? ” exclaimed both the 
old ladies, scenting news. 

“Well, he has gone to Italy, and 
from there goes to the East,” I an- 
swered, unwilling to tell the truth. 
“ I don’t see how he can return in 
time for the wedding if it takes place 
in July.” 

My female relatives looked sig- 
nificantly at one another. 

“What did I tell you, Sophia?” 
said Aunt Jane in a tone of subdued 
triumph. 

“Yes, sister, you were right,” 
sighed Soptya, shaking her head. 
“ Poor young man. I thought myself 
he loved Olivia.” 

“Who loved Olivia?” I asked 
sharply. 

“ Felix Briarfield,” said Aunt Jane ; 


94 


THE LONE INN. 


“ when his brother went to America, 
he was always with her, and no doubt 
loved her dearly. I can scarcely 
wonder at that, as she is so beautiful 
a girl. But he behaved very well, 
and when Francis came back, went to 
the Continent.” 

“ He was unable to bear the sight 
of hisr brother’s happiness,” said Aunt 
Sophia sentimentally ; “ poor, poor 
young man ! I have no doubt his 
heart is broken. He actually left 
Marshminster before his brother 
arrived from America, so as to spare 
himself the painful sight of their 
happiness.” 

I saw by this conversation that 
my surmise was correct. Felix had 
fallen in love with Olivia while his 
brother was in America, and, selfishly 
determined not to give her up, had 
devised the idea of passing himself 
off as Francis. With this in his 
mind he had gone to Paris, and pre- 
tended to stay there ; then reappeared 
at Marshminster as Francis, alleg- 
ing an earlier return from Chili as 
an excuse. When Francis really 
returned, Felix asked him to be at 
the Fen Inn, so as to rid himself of 
his brother before he could see Olivia. 
Whether he intended to kill Francis 
or to merely explain matters I could 
not tell, but at all events Francis had 
been murdered, and I firmly believed 


A CLEW TO THE MYSTERY. 95 


that Felix was morally guilty of the 
crime. The suppression of the 
letters, the substitution of himself as 
Francis, and the dexterous manner 
in which he had rid himself of the 
corpse (according to Merrick’s 
theory), all showed me that I had a 
dangerous and reckless man to deal 
with. But after the clever way in 
which he had baffled me in Paris by 
resuming his name I was prepared 
for any villainy at his hands. He 
had committed himself so far that he 
could not draw back, and was com- 
pelled to follow crime by crime in 
order to bolster up his position. 

He was going to town with the 
evident intention of evading me. 
Doubtless he thought that, deceived 
by the episode at the Hotel des 
Etrangers, I had quite abandoned 
all idea of meddling in the affair. 
But for Merrick I should certainly 
have done so. Now that Merrick 
saw the matter in the same light as 
I did, I was determined to go on, 
but resolved to give no hint of this 
to Felix. When he left Marsh- 
minster, I could pursue my inquiries 
at leisure. Already I had been too 
rash in revealing my intentions, for 
had I not mentioned my journey to 
Paris, Felix would not have been put 
on his guard and baffled me so 
adroitly. 


9<5 


THE LONE INN. 


I had at least gained one impor- 
tant piece of information, which in 
itself was sufficient to break off the 
match. The passenger list of the 
Copiapo proved conclusively that 
Francis had not reached England 
before the 6th of June, and this 
shown to Olivia would show that 
Felix was passing himself off as her 
lover. With such proof I could 
stop the marriage immediately, but 
preferred to wait until I gained fur- 
ther evidence implicating him in the 
murder of his brother. I believed 
Merrick’s theory to be true, and 
quite expected to find that Felix had 
ridden out to the Fen Inn for the 
purpose of hiding his brother’s 
body irnone of the bogholes. 

“ By the way,” I asked Aunt Jane, 
as we parted for the night, “ how 
does Miss Beilin look ? Like a happy 
bride ! eh ? ” 

“ By no means,” replied my aunt 
solemnly ; “ she looks ill and miser- 
able. But that I know this marriage 
with Francis is a love match, I should 
say she disliked the idea of becoming 
his wife.” 

“ No doubt,” thought I, “ no doubt. 
Olivia mistrusts Felix already.” 

I said good-night to my elderly 
relative, and went off to bed. In- 
stead of turning in I lighted my 
pipe and leaned out of the window, 


A CLEW TO THE MYSTERY. 97 


thinking deeply. Could it be pos- 
sible that Olivia had discovered the 
imposture ? If so, why did she 
tamely submit to marry a man whom 
she must know was guilty of his 
brother’s and her lover’s death ? 
Moreover, if she were assured of 
this, she must also have condoned 
the deception at the Hotel des 
Etrangers. Her conduct seemed 
strange, yet I could not bring myself 
to believe that she knew the truth. 
If she did, she was as bad as Felix. 

“ She must think he is really 
Francis, and that Felix is in Paris,” 
I thought. “ Surely she would not 
willingly go to the altar with a man 
whom she knows to be a villain. No ! 
He has thrown dust in her eyes, and 
made her believe what he pleases. I 
must save the poor girl from such a 
fate. Perhaps, in spite of outward 
semblance, she instinctively feels that 
Felix is not Francis. Women have 
their instincts. I know of no other 
reason why she should look pale 
and ill.” 

My cogitations were cut short by 
Aunt Jane knocking at the door and 
telling me not to waste the candles. 
I was used to these little idiosyn- 
crasies of my aunts, so I answered 
that I was going to bed, and put out 
the light at once, but the rest of the 
night was passed in a wakeful state. 


9 8 


THE LONE INN. 


Truly, I had a bad attack of detect- 
ive fever ! 

For the next few days I kept very 
quiet, as I was unwilling to rouse the 
suspicions of Felix. At length, nay 
aunts, who entertained no suspicion 
of my designs, informed me that he 
had gone to London with Mrs. and 
Miss Beilin. The coast now being 
clear, I ventured out and -began to 
work out my carefully-laid plans. 

In the first place I went to Bob 
Fundy to hire a horse. It was my 
intention to ride out to the Fen Inn 
and thoroughly examine the rooms, 
as I fancied Felix might have hidden 
the corpse in'the house. From Fundy 
I gained a piece of unexpected in- 
formation. 

“ Want to ride to the Fen Inn, 
sir,” said he, scratching his head. 
“ Why, whatever’s come over that 
old ruin ? Everyone seems to be 
going there.” 

“ What do you mean, Fundy ? ” 

“ First Mr. Briarfield, and now 
you,” said Fundy. “ Blessed if I can 
understand it. Though, to be sure, 
he rode there at night, and you go in 
the daytime.” 

“ Did Mr. Briarfield go to the Fen 
Inn at night ? ” I asked, seeing I was 
on the eve of learning something 
important. I had not forgotten 
Merrick’s theory. 


A CLEW TO THE MYSTERY. 99 


“ That he did, sir. He rode there 
two nights over a week ago.” 

“ Curious,” said I, with assumed 
carelessness ; “ it is not an attractive 
place. I dare say he only rode a 
little way out of the town.” 

“ No, sir,” said Fundy decisively, 
“ he went to the Fen Inn ! He told 
me so himself, as I noticed the horse 
was so done up. Look here,” added 
Fundy, opening his day-book, “see, 
on the 10th of June he had a horse, 
and on the nth. Both at night, 
and did not return till midnight.” 

I mounted my horse and rode 
away, thinking deeply. If Felix had 
gone to the Fen Inn on the ioth, 
then I felt sure that he had actually 
murdered his brother. Hitherto I had 
believed Strent was the guilty party, 
but now, thanks to the evidence of 
Fundy, I saw that Felix had com- 
mitted the crime. He had . also 
ridden to the inn again on the 
nth in order to conceal the 
body. Merrick’s theory was thus 
proved to be correct. Link by link 
I was putting the chain together. I 
had proved that Francis had not 
arrived in England till the 6 th of 
June, and so made certain of the 
identity of Felix. I had discovered 
that Felix was at the inn on the fatal 
night, and also that he had concealed 
the body. Now I wished to dis- 


IOO 


THE LONE INN. 


cover how the murder was com- 
mitted. 

The Fen Inn was quite deserted, 
and as evil-looking as ever. In spite 
of my searching I discovered no 
signs of the dead body of my friend. 
The clothes which I had seen folded 
on the chair beside the bed were also 
gone, and there was not the slightest 
thing left to excite suspicion. 

“ He must have hidden the body 
in the marshes,” I thought, after a 
vain search ; “ I’ll see if he has left a 
trail.” 

Struck by the feasibility of this 
idea, I went out at the front door and 
examined tho ground. It was moist 
and muddy, owing to the incessant 
percolation of marshy water. The 
path leading from Marshminster was 
marked confusedly with horses’ hoofs, 
so it was quite useless to look for a 
trail in that direction. Looking 
from the door of the inn, the path 
trended to the right ; but on the left, 
where there was no path, I noticed 
hoof marks, also that the lush grass 
was trodden down. 

“ Here is the trail,” said I, mount- 
ing my horse ; “ he took the body to 
the left.” 

Following the trail carefully, — and 
it was plainly discernible, owing to 
the dampness of the ground, — I rode 
straight out for some considerable 


A CLEW TO THE MYSTERY. IOI 


distance. The spongy marsh jetted 
black water under the feet of the 
horse, and it seemed as though I were 
in danger of being bogged. Never- 
theless, as the trail still continued in 
front of me, I followed it. Where 
Felix could go I could follow. He 
had evidently placed the body of his 
brother across his saddle and ridden 
with it in this direction ; I wondered 
at the nerve of the scoundrel. 

Unexpectedly the trail turned off 
at right angles, and led toward a 
broad pond of water, slimy and sullen 
in appearance. On the verge of this 
the track ceased, and then I knew 
that I saw before me the tomb of 
Francis Briarfield. Into those black 
waters the murderer had hurled his 
victim, and doubtless if the pool were 
dragged the body would be found. 
This I determined to do before tak- 
ing further steps in the matter. 

“ Then, Mr. Felix Briarfield,” said 
I, riding back to the inn, “ then we 
will see how much your astuteness 
will avail you.” 

It was late in the afternoon when 
I got back to the inn, and the cold 
vapors of the marsh made me 
shiver. As I am subject to rheuma- 
tism, I was afraid of future suffer- 
ings, so, having some brandy in my 
flask, I determined to light a fire 
for the purpose of heating water, 


102 


THE LONE INN. 


and comforting myself with a hot 
drink. There was plenty of fuel 
about, and I had matches in my 
pocket. I began to rake the dead 
ashes out of the dining-room grate, 
when I disturbed an oblong piece of 
flint which rattled on to the earth. 
All ideas of lighting a fire were for- 
gotten as I stood with that in my 
hand. It was an arrowhead. I 
handled it gingerly, for I knew well 
that it was steeped in poison, and 
that with this Francis had been 
murdered. 

I saw at once what had taken 
place. Felix had arrived, and had 
gone up to y his brother’s room. 
Holding the flint with the razorlike 
edge outward, he had shaken hands 
with his brother, and so wounded 
him. A quarrel had ensued, but 
Francis, not thinking he was 
poisoned, never dreamed of his 
danger. Then he had fallen dead, 
and Felix, placing the body on the 
bed, had returned to the dining room, 
and flung the poisoned arrowhead 
into the fire. The most astounding 
thing was that I had not been 
awakened by the outcry of Francis, 
but I suppose I was quite worn out 
by my walk and in too deep a sleep. 
Nevertheless, it was strange that I 
had heard neither the arrival of Felix 
nor the struggle which must have 


A CLEW TO THE MYSTERY. 103 


taken place. Possibly I had been 
drugged. 

With this damning piece of evi- 
dence in my pocket, wrapped up in 
paper, — for I feared the poison 
myself, — I rode back to Marsh- 
minster, wondering how Felix had 
hit upon such a terribly ingenious 
fashion of removing his brother. 
So far as I knew he had not 
traveled much, and would not be 
likely to have any savage weapons in 
his possession ; yet he could not 
have owned a flint arrowhead in the 
ordinary run of things. This 
puzzled me greatly. 

I returned the horse to Fundy 
without making any remarks, and, 
thoroughly tired out, went early to 
rest, still puzzling over that arrow- 
head. Before dawn I solved the 
mystery. In the entrance hall of 
the Beilins’ house a perfect armory 
of savage weapons were arrayed 
against the wall. There were clubs, 
arrows, bows, mats, and grinning 
heathen gods. Doubtless Felix, 
knowing the arrows to be poisoned, 
had taken the flint head of one in 
order to put his brother to death. 
As early as I could I went to Beilin 
Hall to satisfy myself on this point. 

The Hall was a show place, as it 
possessed a fine picture gallery, so I 
had but little difficulty in gaining 


104 


THE LONE INN. 


admission from the woman in charge. 
Requesting permission to examine 
the warriorlike implements patterned 
against the hall wall, I narrowly 
observed the arrows. It was as I 
thought — one of the arrows was miss- 
ing, and Felix had stolen it in order 
to kill his brother ! I did not take 
much interest in the pictures after 
such a discovery, and the talk of the 
housekeeper fell unheeded on my 
ears. Finally I gave her a sovereign, 
and left the house, impatient to be 
alone and think over my discoveries. 

I had now sufficient evidence to 
prove that Felix had killed Francis, 
and quite sufficient to warrant my 
having him arrested. If the pool 
were dragged, the body would be 
found, with the ragged wound of the 
flint arrowhead on the right hand. 
I could prove the finding of the 
arrowhead in the ashes, and how it 
had been taken from Beilin Hall. 
Fundy could give evidence to Felix 
having taken a horse to the Fen Inn 
on the ioth, and also on the nth. 
And, altogether, the evidence against 
Felix was clearly sufficient to hang 
him. Still, I did nothing rashly, and 
before taking further proceedings 
returned to London to consult Mer- 
rick. His advice, I knew, would be 
judicious. 



CHAPTER IX. 

ANOTHER SURPRISE. 

R. MERRICK was de- 
lighted to see me again 
so speedily, and assured 
me that he had thought 
of nothing else but the 
Lone Inn crime. The 
peculiar circumstances of the case 
fascinated him greatly. “ Decidedly 
I should be a detective,” he said 
laughingly. “ I have been inventing 
all kinds of theories in connection 
with this matter. By the way, my 
idea of searching the shipping list 
was a good one.” 

“ Excellent. You received my 
letter ? ” 

“ I did, with much pleasure. So 
Francis did not arrive in England 
until the 6th of June ? ” 

“No! Therefore it was Francis 
whom I met at the Fen Inn, who 
was killed by his brother, and it is 
Felix who now passes himself off to 
Olivia Beilin as Francis.” 



io6 


THE LONE INN. 


“ Does she not guess the im- 
posture ? ” 

“No! So far as I can see she 
firmly believes Felix to be Francis. 
You were also right about the hiding 
of the corpse.” 

“ You don’t say so ! ” cried Mer- 
rick, highly delighted ; “ did Felix 
ride out to the Fen Inn and hide the 
body as I surmised ? ” 

“ He did ! I have the evidence of 
the livery-stable keeper to prove that 
he hired a horse on the nth and did 
not return till midnight.” 

“ During which time he disposed 
of his brother’s body.” 

“ Precisely ! I tracked his horse’s 
hoof marks to the pool wherein I am 
convinced the body lies hidden.” 

“ Egad ! You are a wonderful 
man, Denham ! Did you have the 
pool dragged for the body ? ” 

“ Not yet. I wish to tell you all 
my discoveries before doing so.” 

“ Many thanks. I am so inter- 
ested in this case that it is a great 
pleasure for me to follow it step by 
step.” 

“ I wish no thanks from you, Mer- 
rick,” said I heartily. “ It is rather 
the other way, as your reasonings 
have led me to these important dis- 
coveries : First, that Felix was in 
Paris ; second, that Francis did not 
arrive from Chili till this month ; and 


ANOTHER SURPRISE. 


107 


third, that Felix himself hid the 
corpse. By myself I should never 
have discovered so much. But I 
have made one most famous dis- 
covery.” 

“ Yes ! And that is ? ” 

“ I know how the crime was com- 
mitted and by whom.” 

“ You don’t say so ! ” exclaimed 
Merrick, in much excitement. £ ‘ Have 
you seen Strent ? ” 

“ No ; it was not Strent who killed 
Francis Briarfield.” 

“ You don’t mean to say it was 
Rose Strent ? ” 

“ No ; it was Felix himself.” 

Merrick uttered an ejaculation of 
surprise, and remained silent for a 
few minutes. 

“ But you said yourself that Felix 
never came to the inn on that night,” 
he objected. 

“ So I thought, but it appears that 
I was mistaken. Fundy, the livery- 
stable keeper, told me that - Felix 
hired a horse from him on the 10th 
and nth of June. On both oc- 
casions he did not return till mid- 
night. Now, Francis was murdered 
on the 10th, and his corpse disap- 
peared on the nth. Felix is there- 
fore responsible for both the murder 
and the concealment of the body.” 

“ That is purely circumstantial 
evidence.” 


io8 


THE LONE INN. 


I laid down the arrowhead on the 
table. 

“ This is proof positive,” I said 
triumphantly. “ With that piece of 
flint Francis was killed.” 

“ Really ? ” said Merrick skeptic- 
ally, picking up the arrowhead. 
“ With such a clumsy instrument he 
must have bungled the job consider- 
ably.” 

“ Not at all. That arrowhead is 
steeped in virulent poison.” 

“ The deuce ! ” cried Merrick, 
dropping it hastily. “ Why did you 
not warn me of its danger ? I might 
have cut myself and gone the same 
way as poor Francis Briarfield. How 
do you know the murder was so 
executed ? ” 

“ I told you about the discolored 
wound in the palm of the right 
hand ? ” 

Merrick nodded. 

“ Well,” I continued, “ that was 
the cause of death, as there was 
neither scratch nor violence on any 
other part of the body. I picked up 
that arrowhead in the fireplace of 
the dining room of the Fen Inn, 
where it had doubtless been thrown 
by Felix after the committal of the 
crime.” 

“ Where did he get the arrow- 
head ? ” 

“ That is just what puzzled me for 


ANOTHER SURPRISE. 


109 


a long time. Fortunately, I remem- 
bered that the entrance to Beilin 
Hall was decked with a perfect 
armory of savage weapons. I made 
an excuse of looking at the picture 
gallery, and so gained admission to 
the Hall.” 

“ Did you find anything likely to 
confirm your suspicions?” 

“ Yes ! I found that an arrow 
had been removed from the 
wall.” 

“ How could you tell that ? ” 

“ Because the weapons were ar- 
ranged in patterns, and one of the 
patterns was incomplete. Moreover, 
on comparing that arrowhead with 
those on the wall I found it was pre- 
cisely similar in appearance.” 

“ Humph,” said Merrick thought- 
fully, “ there is only one deduction 
to be taken from all this. Felix stole 
the arrowhead, and, knowing it to be 
poisoned, rode off to the Fen Inn 
to kill his brother. He is a clever 
scoundrel.” 

“ Very clever indeed,” I answered 
dryly; “but for you, Merrick, he would 
have baffled me altogether.” 

“ I think you have him this time,” 
said Merrick, laughing. “ Now, what 
do you intend to do next ? ” 

“ Have the pool dragged for the 
body and Felix Briarfield arrested.” 

“ Before doing so it would be 


no 


THE LONE INN. 


advisable to find Rose Strent or her 
father.” 

“Why so?” 

“ Because they only can give posi- 
tive evidence as to the committal of 
the crime. Failing them, Felix may 
slip through your fingers.” 

“ They won’t show up or give evi- 
dence for their own sake.” 

“In that case they must be found 
and forced into confession,” said the 
doctor quickly. “ And what about 
Felix and Miss Beilin ?” 

“ They are now in town — Mrs. and 
Miss Beilin in Swansea Square, and Fe- 
lix at his chambers in Jermyn Street.” 

“ I wonder if Felix is still in com- 
munication with Rose Strent ? ” 
queried Merrick, half to himself. 

“ It’s not impossible ! Whatever 
Rose Strent was or is, she is not a 
waiting maid. I believe some guilty 
bond unites the pair, and that Rose 
assisted Felix in his scoundrelly 
schemes out of pure love.” 

“ Hardly,” responded Merrick 
thoughtfully. “ If Rose loved Felix, 
she would not assist him to marry 
Olivia, and by removing Francis she 
certainly did so.” 

“ How would it do to see Felix at • 
his chambers and bully him into 
confession ? ” 

“ You won’t manage that — the 
man is too clever.” 


ANOTHER SURPRISE. 


Ill 


“ He can’t do much against the 
proofs in my possession.” 

“ He’ll deny anything ! ” 

“ At all events I’ll try, Merrick. 
This evening I’ll call on Felix and 
swear that I am going to have him 
arrested for the murder of his 
brother. That will bring him to his 
knees.” 

“ It might and it might not. 
Better look for Rose Strent.” 

“ If anyone knows where she is to 
be found, it is Felix. I can’t do 
better than see him.” 

“Try it, by all means,” said the 
doctor doubtfully, “but I’m afraid 
you won’t get much satisfaction out 
of him. First find Rose Strent, have 
the pool fragged and the body 
found ; then, what with the evidence 
of Fundy and that arrowhead, you 
will have no difficulty in getting a 
warrant for his arrest. At present 
Felix will simply order you out of 
his rooms.” 

“I’ll run the risk of that,” I 
answered, and shortly afterward 
took my departure. 

I could not now complain of lack 
of interest in my life. It took me 
all my time to keep the many details 
of this case in mind. There was no 
doubt that I had already solved the 
mystery and that Felix was guilty of 
his brother’s death. Yet, as Merrick 


112 


THE LONE INN. 


said, it would be necessary to find 
the body and thus establish conclu- 
sive proof of the crime before the 
murderer could be convicted. When 
this was done, the evidence in hand 
would be sufficient to insure his 
condemnation. For my part I 
believed that he would be driven 
into a corner and forced to confess 
his complicity in the crime. 

• Firmly convinced of this man’s 
guilt, I was determined he should 
not marry Olivia. The crime had 
been committed for her sake, and, 
seeing that he had behaved in so 
cowardly a fashion, it was a fit retri- 
bution that he should not achieve his 
purpose. It was no use my warning 
Olivia as to the true # character of 
Felix, as she firmly believed him to 
be Francis, and would decline to be- 
lieve my story. Under these circum- 
stances I judged it advisable to see 
Felix at his chambers, and warn him 
that I knew all. Terrified by the 
predicament in which he found him- 
self, he might leave England, and 
thus Olivia would be saved from life- 
long misery. His punishment for 
the crime would occur later on ; as, 
notwithstanding his flight, he could 
be arrested on the Continent while 
extradition treaties were in force. 

After dinner I therefore went to 
call on Felix. His rooms were in 


ANOTHER SURPRISE. 


1 T 3 


Jermyn Street, and, as mine were just 
round the corner in Duke Street, I 
had not far to go. My visit was paid 
on the chance of finding him in, as I 
did not wish to put him on his guard 
by notifying my wish for an inter- 
view. As the twins, in spite of con- 
stant disagreement, occupied the 
same rooms, I could not but wonder 
at the nerve of Felix in coming back 
to the apartments where every 
familiar object would remind him of 
his fratricidal act. 

It was just eight o’clock when I 
reached the door of the chambers. 
At the foot of the stairs I found the 
caretaker ensconced in a glass box 
like an insect. To him I addressed 
myself. He was an old friend of 
mine, and rather an oddity in his 
way. • 

“ Is Mr. Briarfield within ? ” 

“ Mr. Francis Briarfield is in his 
rooms,” said the caretaker ; “ but 
Mr. Felix is in Paris.” 

Of course I guessed that this 
would be the answer, and secretly 
admired the dexterity with which 
Felix had carried out his plans. 
Doubtless in the end when his 
brother did not return, or rather 
when his pretended self did not re- 
appear, he would account for it by 
an accident in the Eastern deserts. 
However, my business was with 


THE LONE INN. 


114 


Felix, alias Francis, so I made no 
comment on the caretaker’s remark. 

“ Pray take up my card to Mr. 
Briarfield,” I said. “ I want to see 
him at once.” 

“ I can’t take it up now, sir,” said 
the caretaker civilly. “ Mr. Briar- 
field is engaged, and gave particular 
orders that he was not to be dis- 
turbed.” 

“ Ah ! but doubtless he is engaged 
with a friend of mine,” I hinted am- 
biguously. 

“Is the lady a friend of yours, 
sir ? ” 

A lady ! My thoughts at once re- 
verted to Rose Strent ; but, then, the 
chances were that it might be Olivia. 

“ Yes, Miss Beilin ?” 

“ That’s the young lady, sir, to 
whom Mr. Briarfield is engaged?” 
asked the caretaker, who was a con- 
firmed gossip. 

“ Yes ! ” 

■ “ It is not her, sir. I know her 

well by sight, as she has been here 
with Mrs. Beilin. It’s another lady.” 

My surmise was right, and I felt 
confident that while I stood there 
Felix was having an interview with 
his accomplice. I could not disturb 
them, yet wished to assure myself of 
the identity of Rose Strent. When 
I found out all about her, there might 
be a possibility of solving the mystery. 


ANOTHER SURPRISE. 


1 T S 


“ Well, no matter,” I answered 
carelessly, stuffing the card back into 
my case. “I’ll see Mr. Briarfield 
another time.” 

“ Will you leave your name, sir ? ” 

“ No, it doesn’t matter. I’ll call 
about nine on the chance of finding 
him in.” 

Having thus baffled the inquiries 
of the caretaker, I strolled into the 
street, and, taking up my station 
at the corner, kept my eyes on the 
door. If Rose Strent was with Felix, 
she must certainly come out in a 
short time. Then I intended to fol- 
low her up and speak to her if I got 
a chance. Failing Briarfield, I might 
possibly extort a confession from the 
weaker vessel. 

In about a quarter of an hour the 
woman came out. She wore no veil, 
and, as it was still fairly light, I 
had no difficulty in seeing her face. 
She passed hurriedly by me in the 
direction of the Haymarket without 
observing me, and I recognized her 
at a glance. It was, as I thought, 
Rose Strent, and none other. In 
place of the waiting maid’s linen 
dress she was arrayed in a smart 
tailor-made costume, and looked 
very fashionable indeed. Her face 
wore a triumphant expression, as 
though she had been successful 
with Felix. I guessed the interview 


1 16 


THE LONE INN. 


had been for the purpose of extort- 
ing blackmail. With her knowledge 
of his secret Felix was certainly at 
her mercy. 

Following her up at some little 
distance, she went down the Hay- 
market and turned into one of the 
side streets ; turned off there into 
a dirty little alley, and finally dis- 
appeared into a swing door over 
which was a lamp inscribed with 
some letters. I looked up and saw 
written thereon “ Stage Door.” 

“ An actress ! ” said I, and went 
round to the front of the theater to 
inspect the play-bill. It was the 
Frivolity Theater, and they were 
playing the burlesque of “ As You 
Don’t Like It.” Glancing down the 
list of characters, I saw that Orlando 
was played by Miss Rose Gernon. 

“ A leading lady,” I thought, 
transfixed with astonishment. “A 
burlesque actress, doubtless, in the 
receipt of a good salary. What in 
Heaven’s name took her to the Fen 
Inn?” 

This question I was of course 
unable to answer, but I guessed 
it had something to do with love 
and Felix Briarfield. Leaving the 
matter alone for a few moments, 
I secured a stall, and entered the 
theater. When Orlando came on, 
I was thoroughly satisfied. Rose 


ANOTHER SURPRISE. 


II^ 


Strent was Rose Gernon, and I had 
seen her play the part of waiting 
maid at the Fen Inn on the ioth 
of June, that fatal night of the 
murder. 




CHAPTER X. 


A WOMAN SCORNED. 



HEN I told Dr. Merrick of 
1 my good fortune in finding 
Rose Strent, or, to use her 
stage name, Rose Gernon, 
he was considerably aston- 
ished. The case had 
taken hold of him so completely that 
he could think of nothing else. He 
had a large practice, and attended 
fairly well to his patients, but in- 
formed me that he did so in a 
mechanical fashion, more or less, as 
his brain was busy with the Fen Inn 
mystery. We were now wonderfully 
familiar, considering the short period 
of our acquaintance, but this was 
doubtless due to the interest we both 
took in the case. 

“ Upon my word, Denham,” said 
Merrick, rubbing his head irritably, 
“ I wish you had not come near me 
with your hallucinations. Instead 
of attending to my business I think 
of nothing but your mysteries. The 


A WOMAN SCORNED. 


II 9 


sooner we unravel this riddle the 
better will it be for me. You are an 
idle bachelor, so it does not matter 
much to you, but I am a busy medi- 
cal man, and this infernal business 
worries me greatly. At this moment 
I ought to be attending to a patient, 
instead of which I am wasting my 
time with you.” 

“ Shall I go away ? ” 

“No, confound you! I wish to 
see the end of this affair, or I’ll get 
no peace of mind. It is too late to 
remedy the matter, so I must have 
my curiosity allayed by learning all 
the ins and outs of this enigma. 
Come, let us begin. You have found 
Rose Strent ? ” 

“ Yes. She is a burlesque actress, 
and plays at the Frivolity Theater. 
Her name in the programme is set 
down as Rose Gernon, but this is 
doubtless her stage name. Rose 
Strent is her real one.” 

“ I’m not so sure of that,” said 
Merrick sharply. “If she went into 
that Fen Inn business with her eyes 
open, she doubtless took a false 
name, so as to baffle inquiry.” 

“ Then what about the landlord, 
who called himself Edward Strent? ” 
“ Oh, we must find out all about 
him also. No doubt his name is 
false also. Did he look like her 
father ? ” 


120 


THE LONE INN. 


“ Well, I can’t say that there was 
much likeness between them. He 
looked to me like a valet.” 

“ A valet,” muttered Merrick 
reflectively. “ Queer ! I wonder if 
he really was a valet — valet to 
Felix.” 

“ In that case he would be with 
him now.” 

“ It is not impossible. He has 
Felix in his power, and can stay on 
just as he likes. It’s my opinion 
he’ll stay till he’s pensioned off. 
Case of blackmail, I fancy.” 

“ I think Rose Gernon is black- 
mailing Felix also.” 

“ Quite so. What else can he ex- 
pect ? Or else,” added Merrick, 
looking straight at me, “ it’s a case 
of love and marriage.” 

“ What ! Do you think Felix 
promised to marry Rose if she 
helped him to get rid of his 
brother ? ” 

“ I think he might lead her to 
believe he would do so.” 

“ This is absurd, Merrick,” said I 
sharply. “ Felix is in love with 
Olivia. The motive of the crime 
was to gain possession of Olivia’s 
hand. Rose would not help Felix if 
she knew that.” 

“Precisely! If she knew it. 
But it’s my opinion that she does 
not know it. I believe Felix gulled 


A WOMAN SCORNED. 


21 


her into the belief that he would 
marry her if she gave her assistance, 
but he has not the slightest intention 
of keeping his promise.” 

“ And what excuse could he make 
for wishing to murder his brother?” 

“Ah, there you have me ! I don’t 
know that. Of course you and I 
are aware of the real motive of the 
crime, but Rose is ignorant of it. 
She thinks she knows, no doubt, but 
I’m certain she has been put off 
with a lie.” 

“ But he can’t keep the informa- 
tion from her forever. Even if he 
keeps quiet, someone is bound to tell 
her that Felix is engaged to Miss 
Beilin.” 

“ There you are wrong,” said 
Merrick with grim jocularity. 
“ Everyone thinks Francis is en- 
gaged to Miss Beilin.” 

“Yes; but Rose Gernon knows 
well enough that Francis is dead, 
and that the engaged man must be 
Felix posing as Francis.” 

“ There is some truth in that,” ad- 
mitted the doctor, looking puzzled. 
“ I suppose he must have kept that 
fact from her so far, as I don’t see 
what possible explanation he could 
give her.” 

“ Always assuming she is in love 
with him,” said I musingly. 

“ Oh, as to that, I am certain it is 


122 


THE LONE INN. 


so. A woman like Rose Gernon, 
drawing a good salary, would not 
mix herself up in such a dangerous 
business merely for money. There 
is a stronger motive, and that is love. 
I’ll lay anything,” continued Merrick, 
in sporting phrase — “ I’ll lay anything 
that she is madly in love with the 
fellow.” 

“Well, and Olivia, thinking Felix 
is Francis, loves him madly also. If 
these two women come together, there 
will be trouble for Felix.” 

“ Eureka ! ” cried the doctor, jump- 
ing up excitedly, “ the very thing. 
When thieves fall out — you know 
the adage. Let us bring the two 
women together, and see the upshot.” 

“ There will simply be a row,” 
said I ; “ what is the use of that ? ” 

“ This,” retorted Merrick sharply : 
“ that when Rose finds she has been 
betrayed she will reveal all the mys- 
tery out of revenge and assure Olivia 
that Felix is not Francis.” 

“ That’s not a bad idea, Merrick ! 
Also it might occur that Olivia reveals 
something in her turn.” 

“ Impossible ! She can’t possibly 
know the man’s villainy, else she 
would not think of marrying him.’* 

“ I suppose not, and yet,” I added 
reflectively, “ I wouldn’t be sur- 
prised if she were cognizant of 
Felix’s movements on the ioth and 


A WOMAN SCORNED. 


123 


nth. She certainly stuck up for 
him in the most amazing manner at 
the first interview.” 

“ Of course she did, because she 
believes he is Francis. Depend upon 
it, Denham, she knows nothing, and 
if we bring her and Rose together 
there will be a revolution and a 
revelation.” 

“ It’s worth trying at all events. 
But how can it be managed ? ” 

“By working on the natural jeal- 
ousy of the sex. Tell Olivia that 
Felix receives a woman in his rooms 
every evening.” 

“ Oh, hang it, Merrick,” said I, 
reddening, “ it wouldn’t be delicate 
even to a married woman, let alone 
a girl.” 

“ Of course I don’t mean you to 
put it to her in that barefaced man- 
ner,” said Merrick hastily, “ but 
handle the matter delicately. Wrap 
it up in sugar. I leave it to your 
own judgment. In any case you 
must rouse the jealousy of Miss 
Olivia Beilin, and induce her to 
come with you to the chambers of 
Felix when he is interviewing 
Rose.” 

“ She wouldn’t come without her 
mother.” 

“ Then bring her mother along 
with you. This is a serious matter, 
and it doesn’t do to be squeamish.” 


124 


THE LONE INN. 


“ Then do it yourself,” said I 
angrily. 

“I!” said he, taken aback. “No! 
I don’t know Miss Beilin. You are 
the proper person. Besides, it’s 
better that she should know the 
truth, even at the cost of a shock to 
her delicacy, than be tied to a brute 
like Felix, as she certainly will be.” 

“ Not if Rose can help it.” 

“ She can’t help it if she doesn’t 
know. And the only way to spoil 
the game of Felix is to bring the two 
women face to face. Their mutual 
jealousy will do the rest, and instead 
of going to the altar Felix Briarfield 
will find himself bound for the scaf- 
fold.” 

“True enough! Well, I’ll try, 
Merrick, but it’s a job I don’t like.” 

He laughed at my scruples, and 
tried to show me that I was really 
doing Olivia a service in being so 
plain-spoken, but in spite of all his 
arguments I departed from his house 
in low spirits. I did not relish the 
idea of interviewing Olivia on so 
delicate a subject, yet I saw it was 
imperative, and therefore made up 
my mind’ to carry through the busi- 
ness at whatever cost of personal 
inconvenience to myself. That is 
the worst of being an amateur detect- 
ive : one’s feelings are not under 
sufficient control. 


A WOMAN SCORNED. 


I2 5 


The next day I called at Swansea 
Square, and sent up my card to 
Olivia. As it so happened, her 
mother had gone down to Hurling- 
ham with Felix, and she remained 
at home on the plea of a headache. 
She sent down a message to the effect 
that she was unwell, and asked me to 
excuse her, but I scribbled a few 
lines on my card asking particularly 
to see her. This time the servant 
returned with the information that 
Miss Beilin would see me for a few 
minutes, and I was shown into the 
drawing room. I felt nervous, but, 
determined to go through with the 
matter, managed to screw up my 
courage. It was a most unpleasant 
task, but very necessary if I wanted 
to attain my object. 

When Miss Beilin entered, I could 
not suppress a start, so changed was 
she in outward appearance. As I 
said before, she was a tall, well-de- 
veloped, and very beautiful woman, 
but now she had grown thin, and 
her face wore an anxious expression. 
I could not help thinking that she 
knew something about the tragedy 
at the Lone Inn, as I could conjec- 
ture no other reason for her ill-health 
and manifest discomposure. She 
came forward with a nervous smile, 
and greeted me in a low voice. 

“ My mother and Mr. Briarfield 


126 


THE LONE INN. 


have gone to Hurlingham,” she said, 
sitting down on a lounge near which 
my chair was placed. 

“ I am not sorry for that,” I an- 
swered gravely, “as I wish to see 
you alone.” 

“ What is the matter, Mr. Den- 
ham ? Have you anything very ter- 
rible to tell me ?” 

“ I think it is terrible.” 

“About Francis?” she demanded 
anxiously. 

“Yes! About Francis ! ” 

“ Surely you are not going to be- 
gin again about that foolish matter 
you spoke of at Marshminster.” 

“ No — it is not about that.” 

Olivia passed her handkerchief 
across her lips and gave a sigh of 
relief. The expression of her face 
was so strange that I was more than 
ever convinced she suspected the 
truth. 

“ I am glad you have given over 
that mad idea about Francis being 
Felix,” she said at length. “ I can- 
not conceive what made you take up 
so strange a belief. Felix is in 
Paris.” 

“ I know that, Miss Beilin. I saw 
him there.” 

This I said in the hope of startling 
her, but she did not move a muscle 
of her face. Either she was keeping 
herself well in hand or was cognizant 


A WOMAN SCORNED. 


127 


of the fact that Felix had gone to 
Paris for the purpose of deceiving 
me. If so, she must have known he 
was not Francis, and also that my 
story of the Lone Inn tragedy was 
true. It was on my tongue to ask 
her if she was aware of the terrible 
truth, but on reflection I judged it 
best to let events evolve themselves. 
Fate could manage these things 
better than a mere mortal. 

“ I knew you would see him there,” 
she said coldly, “ but I cannot con- 
ceive why you should desire to con- 
vince yourself that I spoke truly.” 

“ Because, Miss Beilin, I believe 
that the man who calls himself 
Francis is really Felix.” 

“ The same old story,” she said 
impatiently. “You are mad. If you 
saw Felix in Paris, you must be con- 
vinced that you are making a mis- 
take.” 

“ Well, Miss Beilin, we will waive 
that point for the present. I will call 
the man to whom you are engaged 
Francis.” 

“ As he is,” she interpolated imperi- 
ously. 

I let the remark pass, and went 
on with my speech. “You will no 
doubt think me highly impertinent, 
but I wish to warn you against the 
so-called Francis Briarfield.” 

“ What do you mean, sir ? ” 


THE LONE INN. 


I 28 


“ Simply this. While at the Fen 
Inn I was waited on by a woman 
who called herself Rose Strent. 
That woman is now in town acting 
at the Frivolity Theater under the 
name of Rose Gernon.” 

“ And what have I to do with such 
a creature ? ” she asked in a trem- 
bling voice. 

“ Nothing, but your lover has 
everything to do with her.” 

“ Mr. Denham ! ” 

We were both on our feet by this 
time, and she was looking at me with 
wrathful eyes. The crisis I so 
dreaded had come, but it was now 
too late to retreat, and there was no 
help for it but to go on. 

“ Be angry with me if you like, 
Miss Beilin,” I said, as soon as I 
was able, “ but it is in your own in- 
terest I speak.” 

“ My own interest ! ” 

“ Yes ! This woman Rose Gernon 
is in love with Francis B ” 

“ No ! no ! ” she murmured, her 
face growing white ; “you are mak- 
ing a mistake.” 

“ It is true,” I said doggedly. 
“ She was with him at his chambers 
yesterday evening at eight o’clock ; 
she will be there to-morrow evening 
at the same time. I learned that 
fact to-day.” 

“ Did you come here to insult me, 


A WOMAN SCORNED. 


I29 


sir?” asked Olivia in a voice tremu- 
lous with rage. 

“ I came here to do you a service, 
but if you look upon it in the light 
of an insult, I may as well take my 
leave.” 

“ Stop, sir ! ” she said, placing her- 
self before me ; “you shall not leave 
the room till I am convinced of 
the truth of your statement. Why 
should Francis meet Rose Gernon ? ” 

“ Why should Rose Gernon play 
the part of a waiting maid at the Fen 
Inn ? ” I retorted. 

“ How can I tell ? ” 

“ To further the schemes of the 
man who is to marry you, Miss Bei- 
lin. She loves him and he loves her.” 

“ No ! I tell you it is impossible. 
I trust him ! I love him ! He could 
not be such a mean villain.” 

“ I can prove to you that what I 
say is true.” 

“Do so and I will believe it. If 
it is true,” she muttered, clenching 
her fist — “ if it is true, I shall bitterly 
punish him for the deception.” 

“ Come with me to-morrow evening 
at eight o’clock to Briarfield’s rooms 
in Jermyn Street, and I’ll engage you 
shall see them together.” 

“ If I thought so — but no,” she 
said, breaking off impetuously. “ I 
cannot come ; how can I — how 
can 1 ? ” 


130 


THE LONE INN. 


“Ask Mrs. Beilin to come with 
you,” I suggested. 

“ I cannot do that.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

She looked at me strangely for a 
moment, then walked to the other 
end of the room. When she returned, 
her face was flushed with anger. 

“ Why do you come here with these 
infamous tales, sir ? ” she cried ex- 
citedly. “ I do not believe you ! ” 

“ Put me to the proof. Come to- 
morrow evening and you shall see for 
yourself.” 

“ You are the enemy of the man I 
love.” 

“ I am the bitter enemy of the man 
who pretends to love you, because I 
believe he killed his brother.” 

“ Mr. Denham, I could tell — but 
no, no ! I must be silent.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” I asked 
eagerly, thinking she was about to 
reveal her suspicions. 

Olivia thought for a few moments, 
then put her hand suddenly into mine. 

“ I will be with you at a quarter to 
eight to morrow, and if it is true 
what you say — oh, if it is true ” 

“ Here is my card,” said I, forcing 
it into her hand. “ Wear a veil and 
come to my rooms in Duke Street. 
I will wait you at the door, and we 
will go to the chambers of this vil- 
lain.” 


A WOMAN SCORNED. 


J 3I 


“ He is no villain.” 

“ I say he is, Miss Beilin, and I’ll 
prove him to be so to-morrow.” 

“ Do it,” she said, fixing me with a 
glance, “and you shall see how bit- 
terly I shall punish his treachery. 
Now go, Mr. Denham, and meet 
me to-morrow evening as you have 
arranged.” 

I bowed and left the room in 
silence. As I passed through the 
door I looked back, and saw she had 
thrown herself on the couch, crying 
bitterly. The sight perplexed me. 

“ Does she know anything,” I 
thought, “ or does she believe Felix 
is really Francis? Well, when she 
and Rose Gernon come face to face, 
the truth will be revealed.” 

The truth was stranger than even 
I suspected. 




CHAPTER XI. 

TRANSFORMATION. 

Y interview with Olivia 
A passed off better than I 
f had expected. If she had 
4 ordered me out of the 
\ house, I would only have 
looked on it as the just 
punishment for what must have 
appeared my impertinent interfer- 
ence in what did not concern me. 
The very fact that she listened so 
quietly proved that she suspected 
Felix was masquerading as her 
lover. She could only be assured 
of this by overhearing his interview 
with Rose Gernon, and therefore 
accepted my invitation to go to the 
Jermyn Street rooms. If their tenant 
was Francis, he would resent the 
intrusion of Rose, but if Felix, the 
two confederates would doubtless 
talk of their guilty secret. 

Thanks to a sovereign judiciously 
bestowed on the caretaker, I had 



TRANSFORMATION. 


133 


discovered that Rose Gernon 
intended to visit Felix at eight 
o’clock. How the caretaker found 
out I do not know, but in some 
mysterious way servants seem to 
gain all information concerning the 
doings of their superiors. It sufficed 
for me that Rose would be in the 
rooms of Felix on this evening, and 
that Olivia would catch them in a 
trap. I had no pity for the guilty 
pair, but I was genuinely sorry for 
Olivia. She little knew the torture 
she was about to undergo. I did, 
and almost regretted that I had 
interfered in the matter. However, 
I consoled myself with the reflection 
that it was better for her to suffer a 
few hours’ pain than lifelong misery. 

That she agreed to go to Jermyn 
Street at that hour without a chaperon 
proved how desirous she was of 
learning the truth. Delicately nur- 
tured, gently bred, she must have felt 
horrified at the risk she was. running 
of losing her good name, but, seeing 
that her life’s happiness depended 
upon knowing all, she flung etiquette 
to the winds and came. When I 
found her at the foot of the stairs 
at eight o’clock, I admired and re- 
spected her from the bottom of my 
heart. 

“Am I late?” she asked, touch- 
ing my hand with trembling fingers. 


134 


THE LONE INN. 


“Only five minutes,” said I, look- 
ing at my watch. “ I have been 
waiting at the head of the stairs for 
that time. However, we can soon 
walk round to Jermyn Street.” 

“Do you think anyone will know 
me, Mr. Denham ? ” said Olivia, tak- 
ing my arm. “ See, I have on a plain 
dress, and this veil is a thick one.” 

“ No one will recognize you,” I 
answered soothingly ; “ nor do I 
think you will meet any one of your 
acquaintances.” 

“ I should have brought my 
mother, but that I wished her to 
know nothing of this treachery. If 
I find I have been deceived, I shall 
break off my engagement with 
Francis. But you will keep silent 
about my visit, will you not, Mr. 
Denham ? ” 

“ No one shall hear a word from 
me,” I answered earnestly. “ But 
keep up your spirits, Miss Beilin. 
Even if you find you have been 
deceived, there will be some conso- 
lation in knowing that it is Felix, and 
not Francis.” 

“ You are wrong there,” she re- 
plied positively ; “ it is Francis. I 
have told you so all along.” 

I shrugged my shoulders without 
reply. Evidently nothing could 
shake her faith in the man. All I 
could hope for was that the two 


TRANSFORMATION. 


135 


confederates would betray them- 
selves. 

“ What are you going to do, Mr. 
Denham ? ” asked Olivia anxiously. 

“ We will go up to the rooms of 
Briarfield,” 1 answered, “ and there 
overhear their conversation.” 

“ Is that not dishonorable ? ” she 
said, shrinking back. 

“ In most cases it would be,” I 
replied hastily, “but it does not do 
to be too particular in this matter. 
If you break in on them, they may 
deny everything. Thinking they are 
alone, you will hear the truth. Re- 
member, Miss Beilin, when one deals 
with a villain, one must beat him with 
his own weapons. Depend upon it, 
it is most necessary that we should 
learn all.” 

“ They can speak of nothing that 
I do not know.” 

“ Are you aware of the truth ? ” 
said I, somewhat startled by this 
remark. 

“ I am aware of the truth,” she 
repeated slowly, and before I could 
question her she flitted up the stairs. 
There was no time for me to ponder 
over her words, as it was now past 
eight o’clock, and Rose Gernon 
might descend at any time. I there- 
fore spoke a few hasty words to the 
caretaker, telling him I wished to 
see Mr. Briarfield, and followed her 


THE LONE INN. 


136 


at once. In two minutes we were 
both standing before the door of 
Briarfield’s room. 

“ It is locked,” said Olivia faintly. 

“ Never mind,” answered I, pro- 
ducing my latchkey ; “ this key of 
mine opens the door ; I was, as you 
are aware, a great friend of Francis, 
and learned some time ago that my 
key fitted the lock of his rooms. I 
have not forgotten the circumstance, 
so it comes in useful now. See ! ” 

I turned the key and the door 
opened noiselessly. Motioning to 
Miss Beilin to precede me, I fol- 
lowed her quietly and closed the 
door behind us. We heard the mur- 
mur of voices in the sitting room. 
She as well as I knew its whereabouts 
thoroughly. The door was slighter 
ajar, and in front of it stretched a tall 
screen with fretwork at the top. 
Stepping through the open door in a 
gingerly manner, we placed ourselves 
directly behind the screen so that 
we could both see and hear without 
danger of being observed. Thus 
far our enterprise had succeeded 
in the most fortunate manner, and 
nothing remained for us to do but 
to listen to the important conversa- 
tion now taking place. 

Felix, standing with his back 
against the mantelpiece, looked anx- 
ious and angry, while Rose Gernon, 


TRANSFORMATION. 


137 


her hands on the table, faced him 
fiercely. Evidently the conversation 
was not progressing in a satisfactory 
manner to either. 

“ No ! ” she was saying rapidly. 
“ I will accept no money for what 
I have done. You know the only re- 
ward I claim — your love.” 

“ I cannot give it to you,” said 
Felix doggedly ; “ you know that as 
well as I do.” 

“ Do I ? ” she cried passionately. 
“ Do you dare to say that to me after 
all your vows and protestations? 
Why did you tell me you loved me 
if it was but a lie ? ” 

“ I did not tell you so.” 

“ Yes, you did, Felix — you did ! I 
remember the hour, the day, when 
you swore that you would make me 
your wife.” 

“ Keep quiet,” I muttered to Olivia, 
who made an involuntary move- 
ment. 

“ I tell you, Rose, there is some 
mistake,” said Felix angrily. 

“ You mean-spirited hound ! ” 

“ I am a mean-spirited hound,” he 
answered wearily ; “ no one knows 
that better than I do.” 

“ Some women,” continued Rose, 
not heeding his interruption — “some 
women would have you killed. I am 
not a woman of that kind. I’ll stay 
and marry you.” 


138 


THE LONE INN. 


“Impossible ! I am to marry Miss 
Beilin.” 

“ You promised to give up Miss 
Beilin if I helped you to see your 
brother at the Fen Inn.” 

“ My God ! ” muttered Olivia, 
trembling violently. 

“ Hush ! ” I whispered ; “ now we 
shall hear the truth.” 

“ I have changed my mind,” re- 
torted Felix, in answer to the last 
remark of Rose. 

“ That may be, but I have not, 
Mr. Felix Briarfield. I fulfilled my 
promise and went down with Strent 
to that lonely inn. Your brother 
came, and you know that he never 
left it again. I have fulfilled my 
promise. I now require you to ful- 
fill yours and make me your wife.” 

“I cannot! I cannot !” he said 
in a faint voice, wiping his brow. 
“ For Heaven’s sake take this money 
I offer you and leave me.” 

“ I have mixed myself up with 
crime for your sake, and you offer to 
put me off with money. It is use- 
less ! Your promise I have, and 
that promise I require you to keep, 
or else ” 

“Or else ” 

“ I’ll tell the truth to the police.” 

“And thus involve yourself in ruin 
with me.” 

“ I don’t care,” she said sullenly ; 


TRANSFORMATION. 


*39 


“ anything would be better than the 
torture I am enduring at your 
hands.” 

“And what will you tell the 
police ? ” asked Felix in an unnatural 
voice. 

“ You know well enough ! I shall 
tell them how you killed your 
brother.” 

“ It is false ! ” he said passionately. 
“ I neither saw nor laid a finger on 
my brother.” 

“ Indeed ! Then if you are inno- 
cent who is guilty ? ” 

“ I don’t know ! ” 

“Did you not come to the Fen 
Inn on that fatal night when Francis 
came ? ” 

“ Yes, but I never saw him.” 

“ You saw him, and killed him.” 

“ It is a lie ! ” 

It was neither Felix nor Rose who 
spoke, but Olivia, who, in spite of all 
I could do, broke in on the astonished 
pair. The man advanced toward 
her, but she waved him back. 

“ I defend you, sir,” she said 
proudly, “ because I know that this 
woman speaks falsely, but I have also 
to demand an explanation from you.” 

Felix paid no attention to the 
remark, but simply stared at her in 
a stupefied manner. 

“ Olivia ! ” he said in a low voice, 
“ how did you come here ? ” 


140 


THE LONE INN. 


“ I brought her, Mr. Felix Briar- 
field,” said I, stepping forward. 

“ You, Denham ! And for what 
reason ? ” 

I pointed to Rose Gernon, who 
stood quietly by with a malignant 
smile on her face. 

“ There is the reason,” I retorted 
meaningly, “ and Miss Beilin ” 

“ Miss Beilin will speak for her- 
self,” said Olivia in a peremptory tone. 

“ Miss Beilin speaks of what she 
does not understand,” interposed 
Rose vehemently. 

“ Because I deny that Francis 
killed Felix?” questioned Olivia. 

“ No, because you deny Felix 
killed Francis.” 

“ What do you mean, Miss Ger- 
non ?” I asked rapidly. 

“ I mean that this man whom Miss 
Beilin thinks is her lover Francis is 
Felix Briarfield, and Felix Briarfield,” 
she continued, “ is my lover.” 

“ No ! ” said Felix hurriedly, “ it 
is not true.” 

I expected to see Olivia grow 
angry, but in place of this a bright 
smile irradiated her face as she 
looked at Felix. I could not con- 
jecture the meaning of her action, 
and began to grow uneasy. Rose 
also looked anything but comfort- 
able ; evidently she had met with 
her match in Olivia. 


TRANSFORMATION. 


141 


“ I overheard part of your conver- 
sation,” said Olivia, addressing her 
pointedly. 

“ Very honorable, I am sure,” re- 
torted Rose, with a sneer. 

“ Honor is thrown away on women 
like you,” answered Olivia scorn- 
fully. “ I am glad I listened, for it 
enables me to protect the man I love 
against your arts.” 

“ That is not the man you love,” 
said Rose spitefully ; “ he lies in the 
marshes surrounding the Fen Inn, 
slain by the hand of his brother.” 

“ That is not true ! I swear it is 
not true ! ” cried Felix, approaching 
nearer to Olivia. 

“ Be quiet, Francis,” she said 
quickly ; “ let us hear what she has 
to say.” 

“I have to say that Felix Briar- 
field loved me,” cried Rose angrily ; 
“ he loved me long before he ever 
saw you, but when you crossed his 
path, he wanted to leave me. He 
impersonated his brother Francis, 
who was at that time in America, 
and you, poor fool, did not discover 
the deception.” 

“You are quite right, I did not,” 
replied Olivia calmly ; “go on.” 

“When his brother Francis came 
back this month, he thought all 
would be discovered, and implored 
me to save him. He told me of a 


142 


THE LONE INN. 


plan whereby he intended to decoy 
his brother to the Fen Inn, on pre- 
text of explanation. There he in- 
tended to kill him.” 

Olivia made no remark, but 
placed her hand within that of Felix. 
I wondered she could do so, seeing 
that he was accused by his accom- 
plice of a hideous crime, and made 
no denial. 

“ I went down to the Fen Inn 
with a man called Strent ” 

“That was not his real name,” 
I interrupted. 

“ How do you know that ? ” she 
said sharply. 

“ Never mind; I know that it is so.” 

“ I decline to tell his real name,” 
said Rose, darting a furious look at 
me. “ I call him Strent, and by 
that name you knew him, and knew 
me at the Fen Inn.” 

“ I certainly did not expect Rose 
Strent, waiting maid, to change to 
Rose Gernon, actress.” 

“You are too meddlesome, Mr. 
Denham,” she said coolly, “ and 
would do better to mind your own 
business.” 

“ Scarcely, when I have discovered 
so vile a crime.” 

“ It was he who committed it,” 
said Rose malignantly, pointing to 
Felix ; “ he came to the inn and 
killed his brother.” 


TRANSFORMATION 


43 


“ It is a lie ! ” cried Felix, in 
despair. “ I laid no hand on my 
brother. I did not even see him." 

“Wait one moment, Miss Gernon, 
before you make this accusation,” 
said Olivia. “You say that Felix is 
your lover ? ” 

“ I do.” 

“And you promised to assist him 
in removing Francis if he married 
you ? ” 

“I did.” 

“For what reason, when the 
removal of Francis would enable 
Felix to marry me under his false 
name ? ” 

“ He promised not to do so, and 
I thought if I helped him to kill 
Francis I could force him to marry 
me.” 

“ You love him greatly ?” 

“ I love him better than anyone 
else in the world.” 

“ I am sorry for that,” said Olivia, 
with a touch of pity, “ because 
Felix is dead.” 

“ Felix dead !” said Rose incred- 
ulously. “ Then who is this man ?” 

“ This man is my lover, Francis 
Briarfield, who returned from Chili 
on the 6th of June.” 



CHAPTER XII. 

BACK FROM THE GRAVE. 


>R the moment I felt but 
little surprise, as I thought 
Olivia was but making the 
same mistake she had 
made formerly. Yet when 
I noted that she knew the 
true date of her lover’s return, and 
remarked the strange expression on 
the face of Rose, I became in- 
stinctively convinced that she spoke 
the truth. It was Francis Briarfield 
who stood before me, and the 
dead man was Felix. How the 
change of personality had taken 
place I was unable to guess, but 
nevertheless felt that it was true. 

Rose Gernon, with a look of dis- 
appointed rage, was the first to 
speak. She stamped her foot, and 
laughed scornfully. 

“ This is ridiculous,” she said con- 
temptuously ; “it was Francis who 
died. He ” 

“Francis did not die, as you well 



BACK FROM THE GRAVE. 145 


know,” interrupted the young man. 
“ Felix fell into his own trap, and 
for safety I assumed his name. I 
believe you v/ere aware of this all 
along.” 

“ How can that be ? And if I 
really did know you were Francis, why 
did you not say so ? ” 

“ Because I did not wish to betray 
myself. For aught I know you slew 
my brother, and were quite capable 
of accusing me of his murder.” 

Rose evaded this question, and, 
tossing her head with a sneer, moved 
toward the door. Before she could 
reach it I blocked her passage. 

“ Not yet, Miss Gernon,” said I 
meaningly. “ Though we have dis- 
covered Felix to be Francis, we do 
not know how the former met with 
his death.” 

“ I cannot tell you.” 

“ I think you can,” said Olivia 
quickly, “ seeing Felix by your own 
confession made all arrangements 
with you.” 

“ And yet Felix is dead,” scoffed 
Rose. 

“ He fell into his own trap.” 

“ I don’t know how he died,” she 
said resolutely. “ As regards that, I 
am as ignorant as you are, though I 
believe Francis killed him.” 

“ Ah ! You then acknowledge me 
to be Francis ? ” 


146 


THE LONE INN. 


“ I acknowledge nothing. Let me 
pass, Mr. Denham. I have to attend 
to my business.” 

“ Not till you tell me where your 
so-called father, Strent, is to be 
found.” 

“ I don’t know,” she said sullenly. 

“ Yes, you do,” persisted Olivia, 
“ and you shall not leave this room 
till you tell all.” 

“ If I do not go to the theater, I 
shall be ruined.” 

“ That does not matter to us,” 
said Francis mercilessly. 

The woman looked at our three 
faces, and, seeing therein no hope of 
mercy, compromised the matter. 

“ Let me have a night to think 
over it,” she entreated anxiously. 

“No,” said Francis and Olivia in 
one breath, “ you must tell all now.” 

“ There is no time,” she urged ; 
“ I am late as it is : I must go.” 

“Let me speak, Briarfield,” I in- 
terposed, seeing he was about to 
refuse again. “ We do not want to 
make a public scandal of this — as 
yet.” 

Francis consulted Olivia with a 
look and turned to me. 

“ You know more about this case 
than anyone else,” he said quietly. 
“Miss Beilin and myself are quite 
prepared to leave the matter in your 
hands.” 


BACK FROM THE GRAVE. 147 


“ Very good. Then Miss Gernon 
can go to her duties. I undertake 
that she shall be forthcoming to- 
morrow. Oh, yes, Miss Gernon/’ I 
added ironically, “ I have made all 
my plans. Knowing you were mixed 
up in this case, I engaged a detect- 
ive to look after you.” 

“A detective,” she said, with a 
terrified look. 

“ Yes ! One of the smartest detect- 
ives of Scotland Yard. Permit me 
to escort you to the stage door of 
the theater and introduce you to this 
gentleman. Perform your part to- 
night, and go home. To-morrow 
come to these rooms at noon and tell 
us all you know. I am not afraid of 
your escaping, as my detective will 
watch you till we see you again.” 

“ Suppose I refuse ! ” said Rose 
viciously. 

“ In that case I’ll have you arrested 
at once as an accessory to the murder 
of Felix Briarfield.” 

“ You are too strong for me,” she 
said savagely. “I accept your con- 
ditions. To-morrow I’ll come here 
at twelve o’clock. Can I go now ? ” 

“Certainly ! Provided you accept 
me as your escort.” 

“ As you please,” she replied dis- 
dainfully. “ As foryou, Miss Beilin,” 
she added, turning toward Olivia, 
“ I wish you joy of your bargain. 


148 


THE LONE INN. 


That man is Francis Briarfield, sure 
enough. I knew it all along, and 
played on his fears for my own ends. 
He is a coward, and Felix was worth 
a dozen of him. For you, Mr. Briar- 
field, I have nothing but contempt.” 

With this parting shaft she sailed 
out of the door, closely followed by 
me. The detective was waiting on 
the other side of the street, and fol- 
lowed us closely. Rose glanced 
uneasily from side to side, but not 
one word would she speak. Nor did 
I wish her to talk, having quite enough 
on my mind for the present. When 
we arrived at the stage door of the 
Frivolity Theater, she halted on the 
step. In the light shed from the lamp 
above I could see her scornful face. 

“ What I have promised I shall do, 
Mr. Denham,” she said spitefully ; 
“ but to-morrow I can tell you noth- 
ing. With all your cleverness as a 
spy, you have discovered nothing but 
a mare’s nest.” 

When she entered the theater, I 
turned round to the detective, whom I 
found at my elbow. 

“ You know what you have to 
do ? ” I said imperatively. 

“ Yes, sir. I saw her face in the 
light. You can depend upon me ; 
I shan’t lose sight of her.” 

“ She is to come to Mr. Briarfield’s 
rooms to-morrow at noon.” 


BACK FROM THE GRAVE. I49 


“ That’s all right, sir. I’ll see she 
is there.” 

“ Good. Be very careful. She is 
a clever woman, and would baffle the 
devil himself.” 

“ She won’t baffle me,” said the 
detective confidently, and so de- 
parted on his mission. 

Having thus provided for the safe 
keeping of Rose Gernon, I returned 
to Briarfield’s rooms, and found him 
alone. Miss Beilin had taken her 
departure during my absence. 

“Where is she?” I asked, glancing 
round. 

“ Olivia has gone home,” explained 
Francis. “ If she is back before nine, 
her mother will never hear of this 
escapade, so I put her in a cab and 
sent her off.” 

“ All the better,” said I, taking a 
seat. “ Now that we are alone I 
wish to hear the story of your trans- 
formation from Francis to Felix.” 

“ I told you I was Francis all 
along,” he said reproachfully. 

“ Yes ; in such a way that I thought 
you were Felix,” I answered ironic- 
ally. “ You might have trusted me, 
Briarfield. It would have been better 
for us all.” 

“ I have no doubt it would,” an- 
swered Francis gloomily, “ but I was 
afraid lest you should think I had 
killed Felix.” 


THE LONE INN. 


150 


“ I knew you were incapable of 
such a thing.” 

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. 
“Had I known you were so true a 
friend, I should have made you my 
confidant. As it was, when I remem- 
bered my wild threats of killing Felix, 
I dreaded lest, finding him dead, you 
might accuse me of his murder.” 

“ Who killed him ? ” 

“ I don’t know. When I saw him, 
he was dead.” 

“ And Strent and Rose ? ” 

“ They had left the house.” 

“ What time was this ? ” 

“ About six in the morning.” 

“ And I was not up till ten o’clock. 
You had plenty of time to fly. But 
what put it into your head to place 
the dead body of Felix in your 
bed ? ” 

“ It’s a long story, and I hardly know 
if you will understand my motives.” 

“Yes, Ido. You were afraid of be- 
ing accused of the crime. It was 
foolish of you to mistrust me. I 
would have aided rather than blamed 
you.” 

“ I see that now. It was kind of 
you to try and avenge my death. 
Unfortunately, all your industry was 
dangerous to me, and I had to baffle 
it.” 

“ You certainly did so very 
adroitly. But tell me the story. I 


BACK FROM THE GRAVE. 151 


am anxious to know what took 
place.” 

Francis was quite unnerved by the 
late interview, and, before continu- 
ing, poured himself out a glass of 
brandy. Then, pushing the bottle 
toward me, he began his strange 
narrative without further preamble. 

“ When I went to bed that night,” 
he said slowly, “ I could not sleep 
for ever so long. I kept wondering 
if your theory could possibly be true 
about the treachery of Felix. If it 
were, I considered how I should 
punish my brother. While thus 
thinking, I fell asleep, and didn’t 
wake up till close on six o’clock in 
the morning. All my troubles came 
on me with full force, and you know 
how much worse things look at that 
hour than in broad daylight. There 
was no chance of further sleep, so I 
put on my clothes and went down- 
stairs. The first thing I saw was my 
brother Felix lying dead on the 
floor.” 

“ Had you any idea who killed 
him ? ” 

“ Not the slightest. I thought it 
was either Strent or the girl, so I 
went in search of them. They had 
fled, for I found my horse gone, so 
this flight confirmed me in my sus- 
picion. At first I determined to 
wake you up and explain all, but, 


152 


THE LONE INN. 


remembering my foolish talk of the 
previous night, I thought you might 
think me guilty of my' brother’s 
death.” 

“ That was a foolish idea.” 

“ Well, put yourself in my place, 
and you would have thought as I.” 

“ Not a bit of it. I should have 
had more moral courage.” 

“ I hadn’t at that moment. I 
thought you would denounce me and 
I would be hanged, so took steps to 
secure my own safety. I went out- 
side and found my brother’s horse at 
the side of the house. Strent and 
his daughter had taken mine, and 
overlooked my brother’s in the hurry 
of their guilty flight. I saw a means 
of escape and took it.” 

“ But what about the substitution 
of yourself for Felix ?” 

“ I did that to throw off the scent. 
I guessed that your idea was right, 
and that Felix was masquerading as 
I, so thought I might go back with 
safety as myself. Felix was far 
cleverer than I, and it was certain he 
had provided some reasons for the 
absence of his real self while he 
passed himself off as me. The whole 
plot unrolled itself in a moment before 
me, and I saw in carrying it through 
lay my only chance of safety.” 

“It would have been far easier to 
have trusted to my friendship.” 


BACK FROM THE GRAVE. 1 53 


“I see that now,” said Francis 
penitently, “ but I did not then. I 
wanted to leave the house without 
your waking, so took the body of 
Felix softly upstairs, undressed it, 
and laid it in my bed. Then I folded 
up my clothes on the chair beside the 
bed and dressed myself in his suit.” 

“ And the pearl ring ? ” 

“ I had to part with that so as to 
carry out the deception, therefore I 
slipped it on the finger of the dead 
man. Then I locked the door of my 
bedroom and came downstairs again. 
In a few minutes I was on my way to 
Marshminster.” 

“ How did you get the horse back 
to Fundy’s stables, and what made 
you think of going to Beilin Hall ? ” 
“As to the first, I found Fundy’s 
name on the saddle, so knew Felix 
had hired the horse. I took it back 
to the stables, and, owing to my 
resemblance to Felix, easily managed 
to deceive the hostler. Then as Felix 
in his letter had told me he was stay- 
ing at Beilin Hall I went there.” 

“ Was there any suspicion ?” 

“ None at all ! I told a footman I 
had been out for a morning ride, and 
asked him to bring me a brandy and 
soda to my room ; I needed the 
drink after all I had gone through, 
but my principal reason for asking 
him was to find out my room.” 


154 


THE LONE INN. 


“ How SO ? ” 

“Well, I made him carry the tray 
upstairs in front of me. Of course 
he took it to the room of Felix, 
and thus I gained my point without 
exciting suspicion. All the baggage, 
clothes, etc., of Felix were in the 
room. I knew all about them, as I 
had seen them plenty of times. 
Then I dressed in a morning suit and 
went downstairs to find Olivia.” 

“ Did she guess the truth ?” 

“ Not at first, but she saw there 
was something wrong, as she kept 
referring to events of the previous 
week about which I knew nothing. 
Luckily Mrs. Beilin did not come 
down to breakfast, so I was able to 
tell her all when the servants left the 
room.” 

“ Had she recognized that Felix 
was masquerading as you ? ” 

“ She had, more or less, but was 
not quite certain. When I told her 
all that had occurred, she believed me 
at once. In some instinctive way 
she knew that I was really her lover. 
Then we set to work to concert 
measures for my safety. Olivia told 
me Felix was supposed to be in Paris 
at the Hotel des Etrangers and 
showed me his letters, so it was 
decided as wisest to keep up that 
fiction. She told me all that had 
taken place during my absence, and 


BACK FROM THE GRAVE. 155 


by the time you came I was thor- 
oughly fitted into the skin of Felix.” 

“ Then I came and insisted you 
were Felix.” 

“Yes ! You see, I told the truth, 
and so did Olivia,* when I said I was 
Francis. But, of course, as I had 
changed clothes with the dead man, 
we saw where you were making your 
mistake. 1 never thought you’d 
take my death so much to heart.” 

“ Seeing that, Briarfield, you ought 
to have told me all.” 

“ Olivia suggested as much, but I 
was afraid. When you asked me to 
ride out and see the inn, I asked for 
a night’s grace in order to get rid of 
the body. I rode out during the 
night and threw it into a pool near 
the inn.” 

“ I know that pool,” said I grimly, 
“ and traced your trail thereto.” 

“ I am afraid I did it badly,” said 
Francis, with a shudder ; “it was a 
horrible task, yet necessary, as I 
thought when you saw nobody the 
next day you would think it was 
a dream or a hallucination.” 

“ I did very nearly,” I answered 
gravely. “ And what about Paris ? ” 

“ Oh, that was very easy. When 
you said you were going there to 
look up Felix, I followed you to 
London by the same train and 
crossed over to Paris at once. At 


i5 6 


THE LONE INN. 


the Hotel des Etrangers I found 
Felix had bribed the manager to send 
on those letters to Olivia. He, of 
course, thought I was Felix and 
talked quite openly before me. 
Felix had invented a very ingenious 
plot to enlist the manager in his 
service. What it was I need not 
tell you, but I told the manager 
what I wanted and he did it well. 
Of course I paid him lavishly.” 

“ You mean he deceived me by 
saying you had been six weeks in 
Paris.” 

“Yes, and about my going to 
Italy. Of course when you saw 
me you thought I was really Felix, 
and that you were out of your 
mind.” 

“ How could I do otherwise when 
your statements were backed up by 
the manager ? I did not know what 
to make of it.” 

“Well, that’s all I have to tell,” 
said Francis, “and a lot of trouble 
it has been. I wish I had told you 
all at first.” 

“ What about Rose Gernon ? ” 

“ Oh, she found me out and made 
believe I was Felix. She wanted to 
marry me, as you saw. I had great 
trouble with her.” 

“ We’ll settle her to-morrow,” said 
I grimly. “But now, Francis, who 
do you think killed your brother ? ” 


BACK FROM THE GRAVE. 1 5 7 


“ I can’t say ! I don’t even know 
how he died.” 

“ He died,” said I, “from a wound 
in the hand inflicted by a poisoned 
arrowhead which was taken from 
Beilin Hall.” 

“ And who wounded him ? ” de- 
manded Francis, turning pale. 

“ We’ll find that out to-morrow,” 
I answered, “ from Rose Strent, 
alias Rose Gernon.” 




CHAPTER XIII. 

PERPLEXITY. 

?TER all, it is true that 
the unexpected always 
happens. In my unravel- 
ing of the Fen Inn mys- 
tery I never for a moment 
expected to find that 
Francis was alive. I was even igno- 
rant that Felix had been to the inn 
on that night. He had ridden 
round the back way of the house, 
and, as my room was over the front 
door, I had not heard his arrival. 
Under these circumstances it was 
easy for me to make the mistake, and 
think the dead man was Francis, 
particularly as I was misled by the 
marvelous resemblance between the 
brothers, and, moreover, saw the 
pearl ring on the finger of the corpse. 
My mistake was a perfectly excusable 
one, and I had been confirmed in such 
erroneous belief by the adroit fashion 
in which Francis, for his own safety, 
kept up the deception. 



PERPLEXITY. 


r 59 


Now I knew the truth, that Francis 
was alive and Felix dead, yet as 
regards the name of the man who 
had committed the crime I was still 
quite in the dark. Rose Gernon 
knew, but it was questionable 
whether she would confess, even to 
save her own skin. Either she or 
Strent was the guilty person, as none 
other was in the inn at that time. 
Strent had vanished, but no doubt 
she knew his whereabouts. The 
question was whether she would tell. 

“ Oh, she’ll tell where he is, right 
enough,” said Merrick, to whom I 
put this view of the matter, “ espe- 
cially if she is guilty herself.” 

“ You don’t think she is the crimi- 
nal, Merrick ? ” 

“ There is no reason why she 
should not be,” he replied argumen- 
tatively. “ She had every reason 
to hate Felix Briarfield. He had 
promised to marry her, and was 
engaged to Olivia. Quite enough 
reason there for a jealous woman 
such as she seems to be.” 

“ But she wanted Felix to kill his 
brother, so that she might force him 
to marry her.” 

“ Yes ; but that little arrangement 
did not come off. My idea is that 
she saw Felix when he arrived at the 
inn, and asked him straight out if 
he had arranged to marry Olivia. 


i6o 


THE LONE INN. 


She would hear of the engagement 
while passing through Marshminster 
on her way to the lone inn. No 
doubt Felix lied about the matter, 
and she lost her temper. It may be 
that she did not intend to kill him, 
but, having the poisoned arrowhead 
in her hand, forgot how dangerous it 
was, and threw herself on him. He 
put out his hand to keep her off, and 
so was wounded. Then he died, 
and, terrified at what the conse- 
quences might be, she and Strent 
left the inn.” 

“ But what about her blackmailing 
Francis? ” 

“She guessed what Francis had 
done, and saw a chance of securing 
her aims by putting the murder on to 
him. He had so compromised him- 
self by his foolish actions that, of 
course, he was afraid to denounce 
her.” 

“ Still, why did she want to marry 
him ? She loved Felix, not Francis.” 

“ It’s my opinion she loved neither 
of them,” said Merrick dryly, “ and 
simply wanted to marry for respecta- 
bility.” 

“ Do you think she will denounce 
Strent ? ” 

“ She’ll denounce anyone to save 
herself.” 

“ Won’t you come and hear her 
confession, Merrick ? ” 


PERPLEXITY. 


161 


“ Not I. A respectable practi- 
tioner like myself has no business to 
be mixed up in such criminality. 
Hitherto I have been the sleeping 
partner in this affair, and you have 
carried through my ideas excel- 
lently well. Continue to do so, and 
then come and tell me all about it.” 

“ Very pleasant for you,” I grum- 
bled ; “ but I have all the hard work.” 

Merrick laughed and pushed me 
out of the door. He had a dozen 
patients waiting, and could spare 
no more time. He said one last 
word before I left. 

“ Oh, by the way, Denham,” said 
he, lifting a warning forefinger, 
“ don’t you trust that Rose Gernon 
in the least. I’ve been making in- 
quiries about her, and she has a 
black record — about the worst in 
London, I should say.” 

On my way to Jermyn Street I 
wondered how he had gained this 
information. A specialist of Mer- 
rick’s standing does not go round 
making inquiries about loose char- 
acters. Yet I knew he spoke the 
truth.. His faculty for learning 
things was marvelous. Decidedly, 
Merrick should have been a detect- 
ive. His opinion about Rose Gernon 
coincided with mine. One had only 
to look in her face to see what she 
was. 


162 


THE LONE INN. 


At Jermyn Street I found Francis, 
eagerly waiting for my arrival. 

“ I’ve sent down to the Marsh- 
minster police,” said he quickly, 
“and instructed them to drag the 
pool near the Fen Inn.” 

“ I am afraid you’ll get into trouble 
over that, Briarfield.” 

“ I don’t care,” said Francis dog- 
gedly. “ I have been a coward too 
long. Had I trusted you, and told 
all, there would not have been this 
trouble. If the police arrest me, 
they can just do so, and I’ll leave it 
to you to see me through.” 

“I hope- we’ll learn the truth from 
Rose to-day.” 

“ It’s possible, but not probable. 
She’ll lie like the devil, whose 
daughter she is.” 

“ I’m not too sure of that. If she 
is guiltless, she’ll be only too anxious 
to save her own neck. Why should 
she risk her liberty for the sake of 
this man Strent ? Who is he ? ” 

“ I haven’t the least idea.” 

“ Then we’ll make Rose tell to- 
day — or have her arrested.” 

“ There is not sufficient evidence 
against her,” objected Francis. 

“ Yes, there is. I’ll take the risk 
of all that. Before Rose Gernon 
leaves this room she has to confess 
the truth. It’s your only chance of 
safety.” 


PERPLEXITY. 


1 63 


“ Bat you don’t believe I killed 
Felix?” 

“ I don’t, but the police may. 
You forget how highly suspicious 
all your actions have been. Rose 
knows you have been passing as 
your brother, and will be sure to 
make capital out of it.” 

“You’ll see me through, Den- 
ham ?” he said, taking my hand. 

“ You can be sure of that,” I 
answered, shaking it heartily. “I 
won’t rest till you are safe, and the 
murderer of your brother is in 
jail.” 

“ Who killed him, do you think ? ” 

“ I don’t know, but Rose does, 
and we’ll make her tell ! ” 

We discussed the matter exten- 
sively, but neither of us could come 
to any conclusion. When the clock 
struck noon, Rose Gernon, true to 
her appointment, walked into the 
room. Without waiting for an invita- 
tion she sat down in a chair and 
scowled at me. 

“ That man of yours is outside,” 
she said savagely ; “ he’s been fol- 
lowing me about everywhere, and 
watching my house all night. Per- 
haps you’ll ask him to go away.” 

“ That depends on the result of 
this conversation. You’re not out 
of danger yet, Miss Gernon.” 

“ I am not aware that I was ever 


164 


THE LONE INN. 


in danger, Mr. Denham ! Are you 
going to accuse me of killing Felix ? ” 

“ I might even do that unless you 
tell the truth ! ” 

“ Oh ! ” said she, with a sneer ; 
“ is that your game, sir? Then sup- 
pose I do tell the truth, and say you 
killed Felix?” 

“ You’re quite capable of doing so, 
but no one would believe so wild a 
tale. I had no reason to kill Felix 
Briarfield.” 

“ Then what motive had I for so 
doing ? ” 

“ That’s best known to yourself,” 
I answered tartly, weary of all this 
fencing. 

“ It is waste of time talking like 
this,” interrupted Francis. “ You 
must be aware, Miss Gernon, that 
you stand in a very dangerous posi- 
tion.” 

“ Not more so than you do your- 
self,” she replied, with superb inso- 
lence. 

“ Pardon me, I think otherwise. 
By your own confession you went 
down to the Fen Inn to assist my 
brother in getting me out of the way. 
You said that last night before two 
witnesses — Miss Beilin and Mr. Den- 
ham.” 

“ I talked at random,” she mut- 
tered. “ I did not intend that any 
crime should be committed.” 


PERPLEXITY. 


i6 5 


“ Perhaps not. Nevertheless, my 
brother is dead, and you know how 
he died.” 

“ I know the cause of his death, 
but I do not know who killed him !” 

“ If you know one thing, you must 
know the other.” 

“ I do not ! When Felix arrived, 
he showed Strent and I an arrow- 
head which he said was poisoned.” 

“ Is this the arrowhead ?” I asked, 
producing it out of a thick piece of 
paper. 

“ Yes ; where did you get it ? ” 

“ I found it in the ashes of the 
fireplace where you threw it ! ” 

“ That is not true,” said Miss Ger- 
non angrily. “ I did not throw it 
into the fireplace. I never even had 
it my hand — the idea that it was 
poisoned frightened me.” 

“ Pray go on with your story, Miss 
Gernon.” 

“ I see you don’t believe me,” she 
flashed out defiantly, “ but I am 
telling exactly what took place. 
Felix said he was going to kill his 
brother with the poisoned arrow- 
head. I told him I would have none 
of that sort of thing ; that I only 
consented to play the part of a wait- 
ing maid in order to deceive his 
brother into a meeting. I said 
Francis could marry Miss Beilin, and 
he was to marry me.” 


1 66 


THE LONE INN. 


“ And after that ? ” 

“ He jeered and said he intended 
to marry Miss Beilin. Then I grew 
angry and struck him ! ” 

She was in real earnest, for her 
mouth was set, and her hands were 
clenched. Not a pretty sight by any 
means. I remembered Merrick’s 
idea, and conceived that it might be 
possible the woman before me had 
kil-led the man who flouted her, 
not intentionally, but in a fit of blind 
rage. 

“ You struck him with the arrow- 
head?” I hinted. 

“ No, I didn’t ! He had laid that 
down on the table. I struck him with 
my open palm, and said if he killed 
his brother I would denounce him to 
the authorities as a murderer ; then 
he would go to the scaffold instead of 
the altar with Miss Beilin.” 

“ What did he say ? ” 

“ Nothing at first. Then I saw a 
look pass between him and Strent, 
and they seemed to understand one 
another. Felix said he would return 
to Marshminster, and let his brother 
marry Miss Beilin. I did not then 
know he had been passing himself 
off as you,” she added, turning to 
Francis ; “ if I had, I would have 
guessed he was lying. As it was I 
thought he spoke the truth, and kissed 
him. Then I went to bed.” 


PERPLEXITY. 


167 


“ And afterward ? ” said Francis, 
seeing she paused. 

“ Well, I never saw Felix again till 
he was dead.” 

“ In the morning ? ” 

“ No. An hour after I left him. 
Strent knocked at my bedroom door, 
and asked me to come down. I 
guessed by his voice he was afraid, 
so dressed hurriedly and came down- 
stairs. Felix was lying dead by the 
table. I could not see Strent, and 
went to look for him. He was out 
at the back door mounting Francis’ 
horse. I asked him where he was 
going, and he said Felix was dead, 
and he did not want to stay in order 
to be accused of the crime.” 

“ Did he say he had killed 
him ? ” 

“ No ; nor had I time to ask him. 
He went off at a gallop, and left me 
alone with the body. I was horribly 
afraid, as I thought you or Francis 
would wake up and accuse me of the 
crime. Besides, I could not account 
for my presence in that house with- 
out suspicion. So I put on my hat 
and cloak and fled to Marshminster.” 

“ How did you fly ? ” 

“ There was a trap and horse in 
which Strent and I had brought pro- 
visions to the inn. I harnessed the 
horse and drove back to Marshmin- 
ster. There I returned it to the 


i68 


THE LONE INN. 


owners, and went back to London 
by the early train.” 

“ What became of Strent ? ” 

“ I don’t know. I have never set 
eyes on him since.” 

“ Do you think he killed Felix ?” 

“ Yes. I believe they had a row, 
and he killed him. But he did not 
admit it.” 

Francis and I looked at one an- 
other. The whole business was so 
queer as to be hardly believable. 
Nevertheless, we saw Rose Gernon 
had told the truth. 

“ What made you come to me ? ” 
asked Francis. 

“ I thought you had escaped from 
the inn, and wished to ask you what 
had become of your brother’s body. 
Then I saw you wore the clothes of 
Felix, and guessed the whole game.” 

“ Particularly as you listened to 
my theory at the Fen Inn,” said I. 

“ Yes,” she answered quickly ; “ it 
was your conversation which put the 
idea into my head. I saw that Felix 
had passed himself off as Francis, 
and afterward Francis acted the part 
of Felix.” 

“ You wished to marry me,” said 
Francis, whereat Rose laughed. 

“No. I tried that game on to get 
the whole truth out of you. I wished 
you to admit you were Felix, for he 
had promised to marry me. How- 


PERPLEXITY. 


169 


ever, you did not fall into the trap. 
And now,” she added, standing up, 
“ I have told you all, may I go ? ” 

I consulted Francis with a look. 
He consented mutely. 

“Yes,” I said, also rising, “you 
may go, but my detective will still 
watch you.” 

“ For how long ? ” 

“Till Strent is found.” 

“You think I know,” she said, 
tossing her head. “ You are wrong. 
Till I met Strent at Marshminster I 
never saw him before, nor do I know 
where he now is. Take off your 
bloodhound.” 

“ When Strent is found,” I per- 
sisted ; “not till then.” 

She looked wrathfully at me, and 
rushed out of the room. 




CHAPTER XIV. 



THE HUNTING OF MAN. 

E were no nearer the truth 
than before. Rose Gernon 
had told us nothing new 
comparatively speaking. 
Certainly she declared 
herself to be innocent of 
the crime, and accused Strent, but if 
we found Strent, he might declare 
himself innocent and accuse her. 
One or the other of them must 
necessarily be guilty, as they alone 
had seen Felix on that fatal night. 
Rose was being closely watched by 
a detective, so that we could obtain 
her evidence at any moment. It 
now remained for us to find Strent, 
and hear his story. Francis believed 
Strent had killed his brother. I had 
my doubts, as I could see no mot- 
ive for him committing the crime, 
whereas Rose, in a fit of blind anger, 
might have done so. Merrick’s 
theory as to her guilt was more in 
accordance with my belief. 


THE HUNTING OF MAN. 171 


Hitherto we had kept the case from 
being meddled with by the police, 
but now they began to handle the 
matter. Informed by Francis as to 
the whereabouts of the body, they 
dragged the pool near the Fen Inn, 
and recovered the corpse of the un- 
happy young man. Then the in- 
spector wrote a peremptory letter to 
Francis, requesting him to come 
down and attend the inquest. There 
was a note of suspicion in the letter, 
and Francis could not very well help 
obeying the summons. He requested 
me to come with him, which I had 
every intention of doing. We settled 
the time of our departure, and before 
going saw Olivia and Dr. Merrick. 
Mrs. Beilin had not been informed 
of the death of Felix, nor did she 
suspect that anything wrong was 
going on under her very nose. 
Thanks to the wonderful resemblance 
between the twins, she accepted 
Felix as Francis and Francis as him- 
self without the slightest suspicion. 
At first she had objected to the en- 
gagement, but afterward, learning 
that Briarfield possessed a good in- 
come, consented. To be sure, she 
would have been better pleased had 
Olivia married a title, but, as her 
daughter declared she would marry 
no one but Francis, Mrs. Beilin gave 
way with a good grace. 


172 


THE LONE INN. 


As to Olivia, she was terribly dis- 
mayed when she heard Francis was 
going to Marshminster, and she 
dreaded lest he should be accused of 
his brother’s murder. The actions 
of Francis had been so very peculiar 
that I was afraid to tell them to the 
inspector, lest he should think the 
young man guilty. At the same 
time it was impossible to keep them 
secret, as Francis had thrown the 
body of his brother into the pool, and 
would have to explain to the in- 
spector how it got there. Our only 
chance of proving him to be inno- 
cent lay in finding Strent, and where 
he was to be discovered none of us 
knew. Merrick’s clever brain dis- 
covered a clew to the destination of 
the fugitive. 

“ Did you ride to the Fen Inn from 
Marshminster? ” he asked Francis. 

“ No. Had I come by train to 
Marshminster, I would have gone 
to Beilin Hall, where my brother 
was staying, and seen him before 
Olivia.” 

“ It’s a pity you did not go there,” 
said Merrick thoughtfully. “ All 
this trouble might have then been, 
avoided. Well, how did you get to 
the Fen Inn ? ” 

“ I took the train from London to 
Starby, hired a horse there, and rode 
to the Fen Inn.” 


THE HUNTING OF MAN. 1 73 


“ How far is it from Starby to the 
Fen Inn ? ” 

“About twelve miles.” 

“ And from the Fen Inn to Marsh- 
minster ? ” 

“ Ten miles.” 

“ Much about a muchness,” said 
Merrick. “ Did you tell Strent you 
had ridden from Starby ? ” 

“ Yes, I had no reason to conceal 
my movements.” 

“ Quite so. Well, according to 
Rose Gernon, it was your horse 
Strent took to escape.” 

“ It was. I wonder he did not 
take the horse of Felix.” 

“ For a very simple reason ! He 
knew when the alarm was given that 
you and Denham would go to 
Marshminster ; therefore to hide his 
trail the better he went back with 
your horse to Starby.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” 

“ I am sure of it. Go to the livery 
stable at Starby where you hired your 
horse, and I am certain you’ll find it 
there, restored by Strent.” 

“ Well,” said I, in no wise satis- 
fied, “suppose we trace him to 
Starby. That will be no use. No 
doubt he took the train there to 
London.” 

“Very probably,” said Merrick 
coolly, “ and waited there for Rose 
Gernon.” 


174 


THE LONE INN. 


“ But she has not seen him since 
he fled from the inn.” 

“ So she says, but it is not true, for 
all that. When he killed Felix, — and 
the evidence seems to point to him 
as the murderer, — he told Rose to 
take the gig and go to Marshminster. 
Then he rode off to Starby and re- 
joined her in London.” 

“ But why should she conceal his 
movements ? ” 

“ Because he knows too much 
about the crime,” said Merrick de- 
cisively. “ Either she did it herself 
and is afraid of his speaking, or he 
did it and she wishes to screen him.” 

“ Why should she wish to screen a 
man who killed her lover ? ” 

“ I can’t answer all questions,” 
said Merrick irritably, finding him- 
self at a loss ; “ all this is pure theory, 
but I think it is so. I am certain 
there is an understanding between 
Rose and Strent. If that detective 
watching Rose only knew Strent, I 
am certain he would catch him pay- 
ing her a visit.” 

“Why not give the detective a 
picture of the man ? ” suggested 
Francis. 

“ Why not, indeed ! ” I retorted 
derisively ; “ because we haven’t got 
a picture.” 

“ I have one at my rooms,” said 
Francis. 


THE HUNTING OF MAN. 1 75 


“ Where did you get it ? ” 

“ I drew it while waiting for Felix 
at the Fen Inn. You know, Den- 
ham, I have some skill in catching 
expressions and watching faces. The 
fellow struck me as such a smug 
scoundrel that I penciled a carica- 
ture of him while he moved about 
the dining room. It is not a photo- 
graph, certainly — still, I think it is 
sufficiently like him.” 

“ Capital ! ” said the doctor, rub- 
bing his hands. “ It’s a good thing 
you employed your leisure in that 
way, Mr. Briarfield. It may do you 
a great service.” 

“ You think I am in danger ? ” 

“ I think you stand in a perilous 
position,” replied the doctor gravely. 
“Your very efforts to preserve your 
secret and baffle Denham will score 
against you with the police. And 
you must tell them all, seeing you 
knew where the body was to be 
found.” 

“I’ll tell them all, and do the best 
I can,” said Francis, turning pale, 
“ but Rose can prove I was never 
out of my room.” 

“ No, she can’t ! Rose went to 
bed, and for aught she knows you 
might have come down and 
quarreled with your brother after- 
ward. Your only chance, Mr. 
Briarfield, of proving your innocence 


176 


THE LONE INN. 


it to find Strent. If you give that 
portrait to the detective watching 
Rose Gernon, I believe you’ll lay 
hands on him, but it’s a mere chance.” 

“ There is another means of 
identification,” said I. “Strent is 
lame, so if a lame man calls on Miss 
Gernon, my detective, aided by the 
picture, will know it is Strent.” 

“Well, go and try my plan,” said 
Merrick, shaking Francis by the 
hand. “ I hope for your sake, Mr. 
Briarfield, it will be successful.” 

When we left the doctor, Francis 
looked pale and upset. He was just 
beginning to realize the predicament 
in which he stood. I was afraid 
myself that when all was known he 
would be arrested. His own actions 
looked black, though I knew they 
were done out of pure foolishness. 
Had he only trusted me at the time, 
all the trouble would have been 
averted. As it was I determined to 
stand by him to the end. 

“Cheer up, Briarfield!” said I, 
clapping him on his back. “ If Mer- 
rick and I solved so much of the 
mystery, you may be sure we’ll find 
out the rest.” 

“ It’s the newspapers I’m thinking 
of,” he said ruefully; “ if all this fool- 
ishness gets into the press, Mrs. Beilin 
will never let me marry Olivia.” 

“ I don’t think Mrs. Beilin will 


THE HUNTING OF MAN. 1 77 


have much say in the matter,” I 
answered dryly. “ Olivia is not the 
kind of woman to give up her lover 
so easily, particularly when she 
knows the truth. She’ll stick to 
you, as I intend to do. As to the 
press, you forget that the inquest is 
at Marshminster, which only pos- 
sesses a weekly paper. I know the 
editor, and can keep all details out 
of it. Cheer up ! ” 

“Thank you, Denham,” said the 
poor fellow gratefully. “ You are the 
best friend I have.” 

“Faith, you didn’t think so at 
Paris, Briarfield. I’ve no doubt 
that there you cursed me by all your 
gods for a meddlesome fool.” 

At this he laughed, and began to 
pick up his spirits. We saw the 
detective who was watching Rose 
Gernon, and gave him the picture 
drawn by Francis, with a full de- 
scription of the man he wanted. 
Especially did we lay stress on the 
lameness, and in the end our detect- 
ive promised that he would nail any 
man answering to our description. 
I gave him my address at Marsh- 
minster, and told him to wire when 
he found out the whereabouts of 
Strent. I also told him to wire to 
Merrick, as the doctor was anxious 
to know if his theory would prove 
correct. 


i?8 


THE LONE INN. 


Next day we went down to Marsh- 
minster. By permission Francis 
stayed with me at Aunt Jane’s house, 
and, learning that he was in trouble, 
the two old ladies made much of 
him. We saw the inspector of 
police, who was a friend of mine, and 
learned that the body of Felix Briar- 
field was at the morgue of Marsh- 
minster. The inquest was to be 
held next morning, and all arrange- 
ments had been made. When the 
inspector had supplied us with this 
information, we sat down and told him 
the whole story as has been here set 
forth. He listened with much aston- 
ishment, and expressed himself to 
that end. 

“ I never read a novel to touch 
this,” he said, staring at Francis. 
“Truth is stranger than fiction, after 
all. You greatly resemble your un- 
happy brother, Mr. Briarfield.” 

“ Is the body much decomposed ? ” 
asked I, seeing that Francis remained 
silent. 

“ It’s recognizable only,” replied 
the inspector. “You acted very 
foolishly in this matter, both of you. 
Why did you not come and tell me 
about it all at once ? ” 

“ I was afraid of being accused of 
killing my brother,” said Francis 
faintly. 

“ You’ve made it ten times worse 


THE HUNTING OF MAN. 1 79 


now,” said the inspector dryly. 
“ Had you wished to damn your- 
self, you could not have gone to 
work in a more pig-headed fashion.” 
“Are you going to arrest me ? ” 

“ No. There is not sufficient evi- 
dence against you. Besides, I quite 
believe your story. Still,” added he, 
with some hesitation, “ you have to 
face the coroner to-morrow. He 
may not believe you so easily as I.” 

i‘ What do you think is best to be 
done ?” I asked dismally. 

“ Well, judging from what you 
have told me, I should think the 
best thing would be to find Strent,” 
said the inspector ; “ he is the only 
man to solve the mystery. Failing 
him, you’d better get Rose Gernon 
down. Her evidence may go to 
prove that Mr. Briarfield was in bed 
at the time Felix was in the house.” 

“ I’ll wire for her to come down at 
once,” I said, jumping up. 

“ It will be as well. I’ll send a 
man over to Starby, and find out if 
Strent delivered the horse to the 
livery-stable keeper. I wish to 
Heaven, Denham,” said the in- 
spector, raging at me, “that you had 
told me all about this at first.” 

“ I acted for the best.” 

“ I’ve no doubt you did,” he re- 
plied ill-temperedly, “ but I hate 
your amateur detectives ; they simply 


i8o 


THE LONE INN. 


muddle things. I’d have straight- 
ened out this coil long ago had I 
taken it in hand.” 

“ I have my doubts of that,” said 
I dryly, and went off to the telegraph 
office. There I sent a telegram to 
Rose Gernon, asking her to come 
down by the early train next morn- 
ing, and also informed the detective 
that I wished her to come. I knew 
quite well she would not dare to 
refuse, and, moreover, that my de- 
tective would send a man to watch 
her, while he waited round her 
house for the possible appearance of 
Strent. 

When I got back to the inspector’s 
room, I found that his ill temper had 
vanished, and he was doing his best 
to console Francis. 

“ I’ve seen a man in a worse plight 
than is yours, Mr. Briarfield,” he was 
saying, when I entered, “ and yet he 
came out all right in the end. The 
cause of his predicament was similar.” 

“ What’s that ? ” said Francis, 
looking up. 

“ Lack of moral courage. Had 
you told Denham at the time, and 
then both of you had told me, we 
might have laid our hands on Rose 
Gernon and Strent. As it was, you 
gave them time to make up their 
plans and get away.” 

“ Rose hasn’t got away,” said I 


the hunting of man. 181 


grimly. “ She’s safe enough, and 
will be here to-morrow.” 

“ I wish we could say the same 
about Strent,” said the inspector. 

“ Do you think he is guilty ? ” 
asked Francis. 

“ Upon my word, sir, after all my 
experience of the law, I am afraid 
to say who is guilty and who isn’t. 
That theory of Dr. Merrick’s regard- 
ing Rose Gernon is feasible enough. 
She certainly seems to have had 
more motive for killing your brother 
than had Strent.” 

“ It’s my opinion,” said I, “ that 
there is a relationship between Strent 
and Rose. In such relationship lies 
the secret of the crime and her 
silence.” 

“ Humph ! There’s something in 
that,” said the inspector. “ They 
might be man and wife.” 

“ Or brother and sister,” suggested 
Francis. 

“ Or even lovers,” I said, nodding 
my head. “Jealousy on the part of 
Strent might have spurred him on to 
killing Felix.” 

These, however, were all theories, 
and we parted for the night without 
coming to any decision as to who 
was the guilty party. In the morn- 
ing I received a telegram from Mer- 
rick, and went off with it at once to 
the inspector. It ran thus : 


182 


THE LONE INN. 


“ Have secured Strent. Am bring- 
ing him down with Rose. Arrive at 
noon. Hold over inquest if possi- 
ble.” 

“ By Jove, sir ! ” said the inspector, 
“ that man is lost as a doctor. He 
ought to be a detective ! ” 




CHAPTER XV. 

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED AT THE 
FEN INN. 

OU see, I was right,” said 
Merrick, when I met 
him at the station. 

“You have been right 
in every instance,” I an- 
swered ; “the inspector, 
here, quite agrees with me that you 
should be a detective. Where are 
your prisoners ? ” 

“ No, no ! Not prisoners ! ” re- 
plied Merrick, shocked at the word. 
“ They are my guests, traveling com- 
panions, what you will, but not 
prisoners.” 

“ Still, I see my detective attends 
on them both,” said I, as Strent and 
Rose Gernon came along the plat- 
form. 

“ It is as well to take all precau- 
tions. How is Francis Briarfield ? ” 

“ Rather downcast. He is afraid 
of being arrested for the murder.” 



184 


THE LONE INN. 


“ No fear of that,” answered 
Merrick, casting a glance at Strent ; 
“this gentleman’s evidence will 
exonerate him fully.” 

Strent, smooth and unctuous as 
ever, rubbed his hands and bowed, 
but Rose Gernon turned her back on 
him with a gesture of disgust. Evi- 
dently she had not forgiven his hur- 
ried departure from the inn. 

“ What are we waiting for ? ” she 
said sharply. “ Let us go on to the 
inquest. I wish to get it over as 
soon as possible and return to 
town.” 

We took the hint, and walked 
along to a room adjoining the 
morgue, where the inquest was being 
held. I introduced Merrick to the 
inspector, and after a short conver- 
sation they went into the morgue to 
examine the body. Not caring to 
see so ghastly a sight, I remained 
outside with Francis. In a quarter 
of an hour the doctor and the in- 
spector returned, the former rubbing 
his hands with a well-pleased expres- 
sion, the latter looking somewhat 
astonished. What had passed in the 
morgue I know not, as Merrick 
refused to gratify my curiosity. 

“ Wait till you hear the evidence 
of Strent,” he said significantly. 

The jury was made up of well- 
to-do Marshminster tradesmen, who 


WHAT REALLY HAPPENED. 185 


took a profound interest in the pro- 
ceedings, as the dead man was the 
brother of Miss Beilin’s future hus- 
band. The Beilins were the great 
people of the neighborhood, and the 
tradesmen hoped to serve the Hall 
when Mr. and Mrs. Briarfield settled 
there. They were, therefore, excess- 
ively polite to Francis, but their 
frequent marks of attention only 
drew from him a bitter smile. 

“ Would they treat me in this way 
if they knew all ? ” he whispered to 
me. 

“ They will never know all,” I 
answered in the same tone. 

I had spoken to the inspector, and 
he in his turn had talked seriously 
with the coroner. The latter had 
been told the whole story, and, though 
astonished at the folly of Francis, 
yet found it in his heart to be sorry 
for the young man. He said he 
would not question Francis more 
than was necessary, and we hoped to 
carry through the inquest without 
exposing the underlying romance. 

The first witness called was a local 
doctor, who deposed to having 
examined the body of Felix. He 
gave it as his opinion that the young 
man had died of poison, and explained 
the state of the blood with a lot of 
medical technicalities which none of 
the jury understood. It was, said 


THE LONE INN. 


1 86 


the doctor, a case of blood poisoning, 
and the deceased had been wounded 
in the hand by some sharp instrument 
which had been steeped in poison. 

I came next, and narrated how I 
Fad stayed at the Fen Inn on that 
night, and had met there Francis 
Briarfield, who was waiting there for 
his brother. Then I told of the dis- 
covery of the corpse, and the finding 
of the arrowhead in the fireplace. 
I said nothing about my tracking 
the trail to the pool, and if possible 
we wished that portion of the evidence 
to be passed over in silence. For- 
tunately the jury were a dull-headed 
lot, and submitted quietly to the 
guidance of the coroner. He only 
asked questions pertinent to the 
death without going too deeply into 
the subject. At this point I produced 
the arrowhead. 

Francis explained that he had 
arrived from Chili on the 6th of 
June and had gone at once to the 
Fen Inn at the request of his brother 
Felix. His brother had not arrived 
on that night, and he had gone to 
bed. He was unable to say how his 
brother had come by his tragic end. 
Then came the critical point which 
we wished passed over in silence. 

“ Did you see your brother at the 
Fen Inn, Mr. Briarfield?” asked the 
coroner. 


WHAT REALLY HAPPENED. 187 


“ I did not see my brother alive,” 
was the evasive answer. 

“ Perhaps the body had been put 
in the pool by the murderer,” said 
one of the jurymen, “ in which case 
Mr. Briarfield would not see him.” 

“ I did not go to the pool on that 
night,” replied Francis, adroitly 
evading the remark ; “ it was later 
on that I learned my brother’s body 
was there, and at once gave instruc- 
tions that the pool was to be 
dragged.” 

At this point Mr. Briarfield was 
asked to stand down, and the 
inspector’s evidence was taken. 
He deposed to the fact that Mr. 
Briarfield had instructed him to 
drag the pool for the body, and that 
it was found there. 

This piece of evidence quite put 
the jury off the scent, as if Francis 
had placed the body in the pool, he 
would not have told the inspector 
where to find it. The critical point 
was thus glided gently over, and 
the coroner called Rose Gernon. 
Once the jury knew how the crime 
had been committed, they would 
forget all about the hiding of the 
body in the pool, so that the folly 
of Francis would not be made public. 

I must say that Rose Gernon gave 
her evidence very clearly. She said 
she was an intimate friend of Felix 


i88 


THE LONE INN. 


Briarfield’s, a statement which rather 
shocked the moral tradesmen of 
Marshminster. Felix asked her to 
go down to the inn, as he had pre- 
pared it for his brother, and wished 
to see him there about a family 
matter. 

“ But the inn was a ruin,” inter- 
rupted a juryman. 

Miss Gernon said that was very 
true. Still it was habitable, and Mr. 
Felix Briarfield had sent on fuel and 
provisions. As the former pro- 
prietor had left all the furniture, the 
rooms were fairly comfortable. She 
could not Say why Felix did all this, 
unless it was that he wanted to see 
his brother privately. 

Such talk was very weak, and the 
jurymen looked significantly at one 
another. They knew the Fen Inn, 
and could not conceive that anyone 
could be so mad as to dwell in it 
even for a night. It was said to be 
haunted, and though such a super- 
stition might be scoffed at, yet not 
one of those present would have 
passed twelve hours of darkness in 
that ill-omened place. 

“ Were you not afraid when you 
saw the Lone Inn ? ” asked a juryman. 

Rose shrugged her shoulders and 
laughed contemptuously. 

“ I am afraid of nothing,” she said 
coolly ; “ there are no such things as 


WHAT REALLY HAPPENED. 189 


ghosts. Besides, I had my brother 
with me.” 

“ Your brother ! ” 

“Yes, Edward Strent.” 

The inspector gave a low whistle, 
and, catching my eye, nodded signifi- 
cantly. He remembered what I had 
said on the previous night, and now 
agreed with my theory that the secret 
of the committal of the crime lay 
in the relationship existing between 
Rose and Strent. They were, it ap- 
peared, brother and sister. I saw 
all kinds of possibilities now that 
such a tie was made clear. Mean- 
while Rose proceeded with her evi- 
dence. 

“ Mr. Felix Briarfield came to the 
inn,” she said, “after his brother 
had gone to rest. I saw and spoke 
with him, and afterward went to bed 
myself. I understood that he was 
going to stay all night and see his 
brother in the morning.” 

“Was he alone in the room when 
you left him ? ” 

“ No ; he was with Strent. An 
hour or so after I retired Strent 
came to my door and asked me to 
go downstairs. I did so, and found 
Felix lying dead on the floor. My 
brother had left the room, and on 
going out at the back of the house I 
found him mounting the horse of 
Mr. Francis Briarfield. I asked him 


THE LONE INN. 


190 


what had happened, and he just said 
Felix was dead, and advised me to 
fly lest I should be accused of the 
murder.” 

“ That, I suppose, was also the 
reason of his flight ? ” 

“ So he told me when I saw him in 
London, but he then declared him- 
self innocent of the crime. I was 
afraid I would be accused of the 
crime, so took the horse and gig in 
which we had come to the Fen Inn, 
and drove to Marshminster. From 
there I returned to London. 

“Why did you not give the 
alarm ? ” 

“ I was afraid of being accused of 
the murder.” 

Here the inspector whispered 
something in the ear of the coroner. 
He nodded, and again spoke to Rose 
Gernon. 

“ Why did you not tell Mr. Den- 
ham where to find Strent when he 
was apparently guilty ? ” 

“Strent is my brother,” said Rose 
quietly, “and as he told me he was 
innocent, I did not wish him to be 
arrested for the crime. But that he 
visited me yesterday, and was seen 
by the men set to watch me, he would 
never have been caught.” 

Her examination lasted some con- 
siderable time, but the coroner did 
not succeed in eliciting anything new 


WHAT REALLY HAPPENED. 191 


from her. She persistently held to 
the same story, so in despair the 
examiner desisted, and she was told 
to stand down. In her place Edward 
Strent was called, and then for me 
began the most interesting part of 
the case. I knew all that had been 
said hitherto, but I did not know how 
the crime had been committed, and 
waited to hear what Strent had to say. 
I quite believed him to be guilty, yet 
hardly thought he would accuse him- 
self of the crime. 

He first corroborated the story of 
Rose as to going to the inn, and nar- 
rated all that had occurred up to the 
time when he was left alone in the 
room with Felix. 

“When I found myself alone with 
Briarfield,” he proceeded, “ I had a 
quarrel with him.” 

“ About what ? ” 

“ About my sister. He had prom- 
ised to marry her, yet, as I well knew, 
was paying attentions to Miss Beilin.” 

“ But Miss Beilin was engaged to 
his brother,” remarked a juryman. 

“ I know that. It was about Miss 
Beilin he wished to see his brother. 
I insisted that he should marry my 
sister, and he refused. We had hot 
words. He was on one side of the 
table, I on the other. Between us 
lay the arrowhead, which he had 
brought in his pocket.” 


I 9 2 


THE LONE INN. 


“ Why had he brought the arrow- 
head there ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Strent, 
lying with the utmost promptitude. 
“ He took the arrowhead out of his 
pocket, said it was poisoned, and laid 
it down on the table.” 

“ Do you think he intended to kill 
his brother because he stood in his 
way with Miss Beilin ? ” asked an 
inquisitive juryman of a romantic 
turn of mind. 

“ I really don’t know, sir,” replied 
Strent, looking the juryman straight 
in the face. “ He said nothing to 
me. We were quarreling over the 
shabby way in which he had treated 
my sister, and the arrowhead was on 
the table between us.” 

“ What was the position of the 
arrowhead ? ” asked the coroneq 
prompted by Merrick. 

“ It was leaning against a book 
which was on the table, and the point 
was uppermost. I said to Mr. Briar- 
field : ‘Will you marry my sister?’ 

and he said: ‘No; I’m if I 

will.’ While saying this, he brought 
down the open palm of his hand on 
the arrowhead, and gave a cry of 
pain. When he lifted his hand, it 
had a ragged wound across it from 
the thumb to the little finger. I 
wished to bind it up, but he pushed 
me away, crying out he was a dead 


WHAT REALLY HAPPENED. 193 


man. In three minutes he was ly- 
ing dead on the floor. I threw the 
arrowhead into the fireplace, and 
tried to revive him, but it was no use. 
He was dead ! ” 

“ And you ? ” 

“ I was afraid I would be accused 
of the death, as Mr. Denham or Mr. 
Francis might have heard us quarrel- 
ing together. I lost my head alto- 
gether, and only thought of flight. 
I ran up to my sister’s room, and told 
her Felix was dead. Then I saddled 
the horse. When she came to the 
door, I was mounting. I told her to 
take the gig and fly to Marshminster, 
and that I would explain all in 
London.” 

“ You fled like a coward ! ” 

“ I suppose I did,” said the man 
sullenly, “but I was beside myself 
with terror. I rode to Starby, and 
gave the horse back to the livery- 
stable keeper. Then I went to 
London and saw my sister. She 
agreed with me that it was best to 
keep quiet, so I did not come for- 
ward to give evidence. Had it not 
been for that detective who watched 
my sister, I should not be here now.” 

This evidence practically ended 
the inquest. Merrick was called to 
prove that the wound in the hand 
was such a one as might have been 
made by the downward stroke of the 


194 


THE LONE INN. 


hand on a sharp point. This evi- 
dence was substantiated by the local 
practitioner, who had examined the 
body with Dr. Merrick. There was 
no doubt that the affair had hap- 
pened as Strent said. Felix Briar- 
field had slapped his open hand on 
the table to emphasize his refusal to 
marry Rose Gernon. Unfortunately, 
it came in contact with the poisoned 
arrowhead. The flint had an edge 
like a razor, and, being steeped in 
virulent poison, acted like a snake- 
bite on the unfortunate young man. 
Felix had not been murdered, but 
died by misadventure. 

This was the verdict brought in by 
the jury, and so the whole of this 
strange affair came to an end. 
Thanks to the astuteness of the in- 
spector, and the delicacy of the 
coroner, the jury were quite una- 
ware of what had happened between 
the death of Felix and the inquest. 
The reporters of the Marshminster 
Gazette merely put in a short state- 
ment of the affair, and in a few days 
people ceased to take any interest in 
the Fen Inn crime. It was a lucky 
escape for Francis, but I don’t think 
the lesson was thrown away on him. 

Rose Gernon and her brother went 
back to town the same evening. I 
never saw Strent again, but fre- 
quently had the pleasure of seeing 


WHAT REALLY HAPPENED. 1 95 


his sister performing on the stage. 
She is now engaged to be married, 
but with the knowledge of her actions 
at the Fen Inn I cannot say I envy 
the bridegroom. 

After the burial of Felix I went 
abroad with Francis, whose health 
was quite broken down by the strain 
put on it during the last few weeks. 
He returned in six months, and 
married Olivia. She was told all 
that had taken place in the Lone Inn, 
but kept the information to herself. 
Mrs. Beilin never knew that Felix 
had substituted himself for Francis. 
I was best man at the wedding by 
particular request, and saw the happy 
pair start for their honeymoon. I 
hope they will be happy, and am 
sure they deserve to be, seeing 
through what tribulations they have 
passed. 

“ What has become of the Fen 
Inn ? ” asked Dr. Merrick, one day, 
when we were talking over the case. 

“ Oh, the Fen Inn is pulled down, 
I believe,” was my reply. “ There 
will be no more tragedies there.” 

“ A fit end for such a shambles,” 
said Merrick ; and I think he was 
about right. 


THE END. 








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